


Money Troubles

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Blaire's a dick, Drugs, Eddie is not to be fucked with, Eddie to the rescue, Forced Prostitution, Honeymoon fantasies, Illegal Activities, Jeremy is a mob boss, Lisa has no idea what's happening, M/M, Mafia AU, Major Character Injury, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Miles is still a conspiracy nut, Miles loses his fingers, Minor Character Death, Money Troubles, Murder, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Rape/Non-con Elements, Say no to drugs, Sex Toys, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Sexual drugs, The twins are cronies, The twins like to watch, Trager has a thing for Miles, Trager treats Miles like a guinea pig, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Waylon in a wedding dress, Waylon is Blaire's bitch, Waylon owes Jeremy Money, Waylon's in deep shit, When is Blaire not a dick?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Waylon finds himself in a tight spot and with no steady income and a but load of debt after college, he's forced to follow an old classmates advice and contact a man who would graciously loan him money to help him out. It isn't until after he uses the money to be mostly debt free that he finds out the man he borrowed money from is big time Mafia boss of the Murkoff crime syndicate Jeremy Blaire.





	1. Money Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea if i'll write more to this. For now it's just a one-shot. Please let me know if you would like me to continue. If this gets enough of a response, i will continue it. But until then, i will focus more on finishing my other Outlast fanfictions. 
> 
> Please leave a comment at the end and let me know what you think. Thank you.

Waylon was just a small time computer software engineer, working for a local business. He did work building programs to house their client files and all the sensitive information that came with that. Bank accounts, social security, medical records, and etc. It went on and one. All of it highly classified and in need of high level computer security and that was his job. Building wall after wall around the program to make it less likely for a hacker to get through without their own files and computer being corrupted by pop up viruses and ad bombs. One of which being his favorite is when a hacker tries to get into a system, taking a route he thinks is the correct one to sensitive files. When he enters it, his computer is assaulted with hundreds of porn videos and advertisements, a majority of which being videos that he can’t exit out of without two more coming up to replace it.

 

His professor at college found that amusing until it happened to his professor’s computer after an end of the semester prank. Waylon had let his friend Miles talk him into doing it to several professors while they did their end of the year lectures. Right there for all of their students to see and several members of the board of education. But now his college days were over and he was drowning in debt. Scrambling for any job he could that would require his skills, even going so far as to take small time jobs at local tech stores. It still was pocket change compared to all the money he owed back.

 

Fearing what was to become of him if he didn’t get it all taken care of. His bank account quickly being drained in order to pay for the debt, he barely had enough money to get by on day to day. His girlfriend Lisa left him when he couldn’t even keep a steady job. It wasn’t his fault it’s just his skill set is either useful for high level businesses (which weren’t hiring at the moment) or tiny businesses that need his services like twice a week for two or three hours and that’s it. Feeling as if he had no other way out, he took a old classmate’s advice and contacted a guy who would loan him the money and allow him to pay it back over time once everything was squared away and he had a steady job. It sounded too good to be true for Waylon and he was just desperate enough to agree.

 

The said male was a man known as Jeremy Blaire and it wasn’t until after Waylon had been wired the incredibly large sum of money and had used it to cover all of his debt that he was informed by his old friend Miles that Mr. Blaire was incredibly dangerous. And by dangerous, Miles mentioned organized crime sort of dangerous. Mafia level.

 

At first Waylon thought Miles was busting his balls and just screwing with him for old times sake. But Miles had slipped into his frazzled conspiracy theory sort of mood and started telling Waylon all sorts of stuff linking to Blaire and his connections around the city. Complete with blurry photos, and conspiracy nut ravings by people online that Miles swore were reliable sources mentioning Blaire’s connection to several influential disappearances and suspicious deaths of problematic higher ranking citizens. Of course none of which stuck, leaving Blaire an untouchable free man.

 

Waylon’s paranoia had increased a hundredfold after his meeting with Miles, finding he had crawled out of the frying pan and landed right into the fire. He needed to pay Blaire back and soon. But the amount of money he was given couldn’t be made over night. If it could, he wouldn’t have needed Blaire’s money. He had a feeling Jeremy was the type of man who would want it in full, in cash and with additional interest on the side.

 

The thought alone made Waylon dizzy, feeling as if he might faint right there in the street. He stopped, leaned against the rough brick exterior of a local shop and took a few calming breaths. Blaire had told him he’d give him time. Let him pay it back when he had a steady job. The job he had right now was four days a week and only a couple hundred a day. That was just enough to cover rent for his crappy apartment and the sparse amount of food he’d need to get by each week. He couldn’t even afford a car because he was so strapped. Left with walking everywhere.

 

He pushed himself away from the brick wall and continued walking, his head down, expressing a deep sigh in thought. Not even aware of the eyes watching him from across the street. Or the vehicle that had started following him until the loud whistling of the engine lingering too long caught his attention. He looked up when the creepy crawly feeling of insects under his skin, crawling along his spine was unbearable. He dared a look over his shoulder and saw two men sitting inside an old clunker of a beat up black mercedes well overdue for a date with a mechanic.

 

Behind the dingy windshield was two big men, looking identical from this distance. Massive shoulders, big heads jammed into them with squatty necks. One was bald and the other had short closely cropped black hair, they both had comically square jaws and large ears that stuck out on either side of their heads. They reminded Waylon of when Miles would make monkey faces and would pull his ears out at him and cross his eyes with his tongue sticking out. Giving them the dumbo effect as Miles would call it. Despite their laughable looks, their dark beady little eyes were staring him down in a way that told Waylon they were dangerous.

 

He shifted his bag on his shoulders, gripping the strap of his messenger bag that slipped down over his front, shifting the majority of the weight of the bag towards his back. Keeping his blue eyes low and fixed on the ground, he waited. He stopped just on the other side of a parked car and crouched down. Adjusting the laces on his sneakers. The squeak of car tires stopping sounded from the other side. Peering under the parked car, Waylon saw feet meet the pavement, scuffed up fancy black shoes on both sides of the tailing car. He heard a door slam shut and that was the only bit Waylon gave them before he shot off like a bullet.

 

Darting out from behind the parked car and taking the alley nearby. It cut across the block and brought him out to another street where he raced across it, narrowly avoiding being hit by a local transit bus on the way. The horn blaring, washing out the thunderous steps of the twins chasing not too far behind. Waylon’s own panting breaths and the sound of his sneakers slapping the concrete sidewalk washed out the other sounds around him. Slipping between people who were exiting a local theater, his arms pumping quickly and one hand occasionally gripping the front strap of his bag as he cut quick corners or slipped between dumpsters and the narrow gaps allotted between the brick exteriors of buildings. The rough brickwork scraping his palms and pulling at his clothes.

 

He made it to another street and crossed it, darting between cars and hunkering down beside another parked one. This street was quieter than the rest. Lying on the outskirts of the shopping district and where a couple small apartments were. There was also a ballet studio across the street, a bike repair shop beside that and a dress shop which Waylon was currently crouched down in front of. His eyes scanning the route he had come, watchful and waiting for the Twins to come after him. His breathing was erratic and his heart was hammering inside his chest. Thundering away, causing the blood to rush in his ears. He didn’t hear the approaching steps until he was snatched up by his hair and one arm gripping his shoulders.

 

Another set of hands had him by the strap of his bag and pulled him back into the delivery bay behind the shop. Where vehicles could pull up into and around back. There were stairs alongside that drive that led up to an upper floor doorway above the shop, more then likely there was an apartment up there. Waylon hoped that somebody was inside and would hear him as he screamed for help. The day had reached it’s end and night was falling quickly. The streets were emptying out in these areas and the shops were already closed up for the night. But he hoped to god the owner of the building was up there and listening as he screamed for help with all his might until a large meaty fist shut him up with a hard blow to his jaw. Colors exploded behind his eyelids and a groan left his lips as the action was followed by another hit to his stomach.  This time it knocked the air out of him. Leaving him gasping as his body was posed like a punching bag for the other twin to wail on him until he gave in, crumbling in their hold.

 

Blood dripped from his nose and he felt like his stomach had been twisted up into a tight knot and pulled out to its limit. A sudden wave of nausea overcame him as he struggled to stay on his feet. A harsh grip on his shoulder kept him from swaying in place and his cheek was swatted a few times for good measure. Adding more sting to the forming bruise on his face. “Now now, that wasn’t very nice of you to do Mr. Park. Mr. Blaire won’t be very happy to hear you ran from us like a terrified bunny rabbit.” The voice was a deep dull drone but it instilled just the right amount of fear into Waylon to keep his attention. The mentioning of the top brass made his stomach twist harder and that nausea pressed closer to becoming a real occurrence all over the ground.

 

“We just came to give you a friendly little reminder of what you owe Mr. Blaire.” There was no warning this time when the fist planted firmly into his stomach. Waylon pitched forward and crumpled down to kneeling on one knee. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. A hand grabbed the back strap of his back and curled around it with a fist full of his shirt, another fist filled it’s grasp with his hair, pulling him back upright. His head cocked back as the dark haired twin gave him a menacing smile.

 

“Hm, I don’t think he get’s the message brother. I think we shoulder carve it into him-”

 

“Hey! Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb!” Another voice broke through the conversation, interrupting the threat the men were in the middle of giving Waylon. All eyes turned to the metal steps leading up to the apartment. At the very top stood a large man, easily dwarfing the Twin’s in height and more then matching their stature. He was well dressed in dark slacks, a white button up with a tailored black vest over it. His broad shoulders fit snug within the seams of fabric that made up his outfit. They appeared to be made for the massive man. His black hair slicked back down the center of his head and the sides shaved clean. One would think him the type to be taken as a delinquent with that hair style but the man pulled it off with gentlemanly elegance.

 

It took Waylon the entire time as the larger male descended the steps for him to realize the gentleman owned the shop below. Only upon closer inspection of his clothing did Waylon see the obvious design of a tailor’s uniform with the plumes around the biceps and the elastic bands over each allowing for easier and more awkward movement of the shoulders while working and measuring a subject for clothing. Without the uniform riding up or impinging on motion.

 

The twins seemed to be in a state of shock at first until the man neared them, having reached the bottom. His long legs took leisurely strides towards them, his hands tucked behind his back as if inspecting something of interest. His eyes narrowed onto Waylon’s pitiful slouching form then turned sharp as daggers when they met the twins. “What do you want Gluskin?”

 

‘This doesn’t concern you.” The other twin added.

 

“Oh but boys, it most certainly does. What have I told you about bringing trouble around my shop?” The man referred to as Gluskin growled. Despite the smile lingering on his lips when he eyed Waylon, it turned into something all too dangerous when the twins were addressed. It reminded Waylon of a wolf eying its prey and finding others trying to sneak a bite from it.

 

“Blaire wanted us-”

 

“I don’t give a flying fuck what Blaire wants.” The larger male snarled, reaching out and grabbing Waylon by the shoulders and pulling him out of the Twins grasp. Neither lunkhead looked eager to get into a tussle with the larger man. That didn’t make Waylon feel anymore relieved when he was tucked up against Gluskin’s side. “If Blaire wants this man, he’ll have to come and get him himself. That’s the price he pays when you dunderheads want to do his dirty work in my territory. Now get the fuck out of here.”

 

“You’ll be hearing from Blaire soon.” The bald twin growled in displeasure.

 

Gluskin met the growl with a quick wave of his hand, shooing the two goons off. His arm snaked around Waylon’s shoulders. The two men had no sooner left the alley and were out of sight and Gluskin was steering Waylon towards the steps leading up. “Now then, let’s get you cleaned up. My apologies that you had to see such an unsightly pair. For now you’re safe while they wander along to lick their wounds and cry to their master.”

 

Waylon barely registered what was happening as he stumbled up the steps and was guided inside the cozy little apartment. He didn’t move a single muscle until he heard the door shut and lock behind him. The chilling click of the deadbolt causing him to finally break away from Gluskin’s grasp and look around in alarm. “I...I’m sorry. I need to get going.” He said quickly, but made no move towards the door. Gluskin’s hulking form filled the entryway of the apartment, preventing him from nearing it, yet the larger man’s features had softened to something far more approachable and Waylon could even describe as warm.

 

A firm hand was placed on Waylon’s shoulder, and a sympathetic smile was turned towards him. “I understand your alarm darling but you look like you’ve been through the ringer. Just take a little bit to relax and calm down. To get cleaned up a bit. Not to sound condescending love, but you look like a mess. See.” Gluskin had turned Waylon around to face the rest of the apartment. There was an open layout where the dining room, kitchen and living room were. There were two other rooms, one was open and Waylon could tell it was a bathroom. The other he assumed was a bedroom. The open layout was broken only by the counter that wrapped around the kitchen, allowing one to speak to anyone in the living room or dining area while cooking.

 

The Living room had a life size torso mannequin with the beginnings of a elegant bridal gown hanging on it, there was a large leather couch and a plush cushioned chair but no t.v. a coffee table rested in between and near the mannequin, there was a standing table with fabric and pins laid out, a wooden barstool and a large full body mirror with intricately carved patterns in the white painted wood frame. Waylon’s dreadful beaten and bloodied appearance stared back at him.

 

A black eye had already filled in against the stark pale contrast of his skin. A line of red stood out amidst the bruising on his face, trailing from his nose down his chin. A few splotches stained his shirt as well. His clothes were scuffed up and filthy from the chase. Waylon placed a hand over his face and let his head hang, a deep shaky sigh leaving his chest. “Go on and clean up in the bathroom. Take your time darling. I’ll make some tea and then we can talk.” Gluskin pushed Waylon towards the bathroom which Waylon obliged and shut the door behind himself. He took several long minutes to wash his face and dab at the blood on his skin. He took off the dark grey hoodie he had been wearing and stuffed it into his bag. Leaving a dark blue long sleeve button up behind and his jeans which were a little scuffed up and dusty.

 

When he left the bathroom, Gluskin had a tray sitting on the coffee table with two cups and a teapot with steam rising from the spout and tea bags resting beside each with a spoon. There was a small bowl of sugar and a jar of honey as well. Waylon slipped his bag off of his shoulders and sat down across from Gluskin on the couch where the man had offered with a kind gesture and a sweet smile. Gluskin was sitting on the chair adjacent to Waylon. He poured a cup of tea for each of them and offered sugar and honey. Waylon declined both and sipped at the warm drink. Gluskin on the other hand put a little of the honey in his drink and sat back with legs crossed. He took his time in bringing up the topic of discussion. Starting it off with a simple ice breaker. “My name is Eddie Gluskin and this is my home and down below is my shop.”

 

“Thank you for your hospitality Mr. Gluskin. My name is Waylon. Waylon Park.” Waylon felt incredibly awkward with trying to introduce himself after what had transpired. He sipped at his tea a little more then sat it back on the coffee table. Drawing his hands back into his lap, neatly folded and legs pressed close together. He couldn’t feel any more vulnerable than he did sitting before this man. One that had to have some sort of questionable reputation with how the twins responded to him. “About the twins...do you, uh, do you know them? O- or their boss?”

 

Waylon’s stumbled words brought a soft laugh to Eddie’s lips. “Please, Waylon, call me Eddie. And yes i know those imbeciles and their boss. We’ve crossed paths a few times before and he likes to think he has power over me yet he sends those two cronies out my way often. At the moment we have an unofficial truce. As long as his dirty business stays far from my shop. You don’t have to worry about them as long as you’re here. Though if you’re in some kind of trouble with Jeremy Blaire, it would be best not to go home for a while or to your job.” Eddie didn’t think the timid male could really be in too much trouble with the cocky bastard.

 

Watching Waylon’s head dip down and his shoulders droop in a look of defeat. His features scrunched up in momentary despair that made Eddie put his cup down and shifted to the edge of the chair to be closer to Waylon. Placing a gentle hand on the man’s knee. “Waylon, why are Blaire’s men after you? Please tell me it doesn’t involve money.”  Waylon squeezed his eyes shut and nodded slowly. A curse left Eddie’s lips and the hand on his knee tightened a little bit. “He’s not going to be a happy man.” Eddie watched Waylon’s shoulders shift and his folded hands gripped each other fiercely, the knuckles turning white. “Do you have anywhere to go? A friend perhaps?”

 

Miles had crossed Waylon’s mind but before he could act on the thought, he remembered his old friend was out of town for the weekend. He had some lead he was chasing a few hours away in some tiny rural community. Something about a sketchy church and a deranged cult. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” He admitted sadly.

 

Eddie took a deep breath, contemplating his options. What he said earlier was true. Blaire wouldn’t waste his time and come all the way out here for one small fry. He’d wait it out and let Waylon’s fears drive him mad. His paranoia. Let his prey come to him in the end and prostrate himself for the beast to devour. Besides, the twins were just a courtesy call. A friendly reminder so to speak. Like the kind one gets from a doctor’s office a week before the appointment. Eddie ran a hand through his hair in thought, relaxing back into his chair before releasing a long deep sigh. You can stay with me. Until you get things figured out or find somewhere else you can go.”

 

Waylon thought he had misheard Eddie’s offer. He raised his head quickly, blue eyes wide with disbelief only to be met with a small smile of reassurance from the tailor. “Really? You mean that?” Eddie nodded and sipped at his cup of tea slowly once again. “I can’t really pay you though. I can’t accept that for free. Is there anything I could do in return? Any thing i can help with?”

 

Eddie chuckled softly and smiled at the male’s delight. The offer was a delicious one that he could certainly turn towards his favor. “Well, there is one thing. I could use a model for a few new gowns i’ve been designing. A mannequin is all well and good but it’s nothing compared to a living subject. Your body type is just small enough to fit them as well.”

 

“You want me to model your dresses for you?” Waylon asked in confusion at first. His eyes moving to the mannequin with the partial dress on it then back to Eddie who had quickly stood up, a fond smile on his lips as he lifted a long piece of eggshell white fabric.

 

“Yes darling. Don’t worry. It’ll just be the two of us. I may even need you to wear them while i do alterations. The dips and curves of a body are far too different from that on a mannequin and it can leave the dress awkward in places for the brides to be. It’s not much considering it’s free room and board.” Eddie teased on Waylon’s situation, making Waylon mentally flinch and swallow his pride. Not that he really had any to begin with.

 

“Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll be your model.” He gave in, rising to his feet.

 

Eddie grinned widely, wrapped an arm around Waylon’s shoulders and drawing him closer to look over the mannequin and the work in progress that adorned it. “Fantastic darling. Just you wait, you’ll look lovely.”


	2. Tails or Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon didn't think things could get any worse....

It was a very long and awkward two days after Eddie had offered his home to Waylon. Eddie had accompanied Waylon to his apartment late that friday night after the incident with the twins and watched over him while he gathered a few things he would need such as extra clothes and his laptop. Anything important fearing Blaire might actually ransack his home to make a point. As long as he had his laptop, he could survive. He spent the weekend sleeping on Eddie’s couch even though the larger male offered his bed to him, Waylon turned it down, not wanting to seem like he was taking more than necessary. During that Saturday, Waylon worked on his laptop from Eddie’s apartment, doing what he could since heeding Eddie’s words that Blaire would send the twins to Waylon’s work if he went there. This way he figured his coworkers would be safe and he tried to stay optimistic and used this time to do some work he had been needing to get done.

 

He checked his phone and emails frequently, hoping to hear from Miles when he came back to town. But alas, nothing came through. He even checked local news reports and articles to make sure no bodies were found in the last few days. Looking for any matching Miles description because Waylon knew what sort of trouble Miles would get into and could see that being the nosy journalists end one of these days. Not knowing how to leave well enough alone and simply enjoying poking the bear with his own two fingers. It wasn’t that Miles didn’t have any common sense, he just was like a bloodhound when he catches whiff of a promising story. He definitely had guts. More so than Waylon ever did.

 

Along the same lines, he had attempted to text his ex-girlfriend Lisa half a dozen times. Writing an apologetic message or a greeting only to hammer the backspace and watch each letter disappear. Resigning himself to stare at the lit phone screen for another twenty minutes then focusing on his computer for a few minutes before  his attention was drawn back to his phone and he repeated the attempt to talk to her again. Each time ending in a cowardly act of deleting the message and finally burying the phone underneath a blanket to keep it out of sight. Suddenly the phone buzzed and he scrambled for it again with hope in his eyes only to see it was his landlord sending him a friendly reminder that rent was due in a few days. He sighed and tossed the phone off to the side and covered his face with both his hands, trying to draw out any plan at all on how to stop his life from falling apart any further.

 

 

Sunday was no better. The shop closed on Sundays, meaning a full day of Eddie being in the apartment working on his latest designs. The upside, Waylon got a nice hot breakfast out of the deal that wasn’t prepackaged and microwaved for a set amount of time. A real breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. Waylon couldn’t remember the last time he had a _real_ breakfast. Or bacon for that matter. His life consisted of college dorm style eating. Microwaveable everything and most of it coming from a freezer and wrapped in plastic.

 

After breakfast he was stripped down to his boxers and standing on a pedestal while Eddie draped one piece of soft white fabric after another over his body. Pinning them together as he went. Stopping from time to time to run a finger over one of the many large bruises that littered his pale flesh. The twins had really done a number on him. The bruises were still dark and angry. The one over his eye and his jaw being the worst of it. Waylon tried to pay it no mind and brush it off like he had in middle school when he’d get roughed up by the bigger kids or beaten down by irate bullies in high school.

 

He was used to it by now, or at least he’d say that but it never lessened the pain or the wave of shame and guilt for not fighting back and for once again being the lowly coward he truly was. He was reminded of how Miles wouldn’t take any shit from nobody and would throw it right back in their faces, not even flinching when his actions would gain him a split lip and a bloody nose. He’d give a cheeky grin and keep on chasing the truth.

 

Waylon was pulled from his deep thoughts when he felt one of Eddie’s hands caress his hip and fingers brush down the length of his inner thigh. The light weight of material following it. He didn’t know if that was a normal gesture from a tailor but it made a shiver run up his spine and a sudden wave of unease followed it. He bit his lip and faced forward, his back was currently to the mirror so he couldn’t see what Eddie was doing and he wasn’t allowed to move his head or look down for fear of causing the material to shift and Eddie would have to redo his work. He felt the sharp pinpricks of the needles brushing against his skin, drawing a gasp from his lips.

 

“Careful darling. Relax and don’t move.” He was quietly reminded. Waylon nodded slowly and held still, even holding his breath and letting out long slow breaths in between. Eddie’s hand moved down Waylon’s back, working over the deep V of the dress, creasing the fabric and pinning it along the way. Waylon’s spine arched slightly at the touch, another shiver and this time he thought he could hear Eddie laugh. The hand made it’s way down to his rear and a soft almost grope came but it was quickly covered up as the train was fluffed up and ruffled. Eddie lifted the lower part of the dress to do some pinning on the inside and Waylon’s face heated up to a dark red of embarrassment. “Simply lovely darling. There. All done.” The words were a welcome relief as the skirt of the dress fell back down and Eddie stood up, dusting his hands off and looking incredibly proud of his handiwork. He placed a hand on Waylon’s lower back to steady him as the pedestal slowly turned to face the mirror.

 

Waylon’s blushing face deepened at the visage of himself in a long flowing wedding dress. The fabric hugged his body in all the right places, adding depth and accentuating his form. Shoring off his rear and hips and the deep curve of his spine. The open back design flowed out, giving his hips and rear a more feminine look with his already lean frame. Eddie tucked a fear strands of Waylon’s sandy blonde locks out of the way and placed a veil over his head. “Ah, look at the blushing bride.” Eddie teased, making a few last minute adjustments around the underarms where the seams met.

 

“It’s beautiful.” Waylon complemented, trying to remain courteous but still blown away by the fact he was standing in a wedding dress.

 

Eddie’s lips curled into a wider smile. He seemed like he was deeply impressed with the way Waylon looked in his gown. Giving him that wolfish grin like he was about to devour the man. His hands rested on Waylon’s hips as he leaned over his shoulders and purred into his ear. An all too intimate gesture in Waylon’s mind that made that shiver along his body linger too long. Feeling the heat of Eddie’s hands through the dress. “Thank you darling, we’re done for today. I appreciate your help by modeling for me.” Those words were the biggest relief to Waylon’s ears. Eddie helped him out of the dress without the pins coming out or prodding him in the process. He scooped up his clothing and rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. Taking his time to calm down his racing heart and let a more normal color return to his face. By the time he left the bathroom, Eddie had already taken the dress and went down to the shop where his sewing machine was. He could hear the sound of it thrumming due to the overwhelming silence of the apartment.

 

 

Monday morning rolled around and Waylon was awoken by the incessant buzzing of his phone next to his head. Reaching up for the device that was humming repeatedly in the empty silence of the apartment. Waylon knew Eddie was already downstairs and tending to the shop, leaving him to sleep. His fingers curled around the phone, turning the lit up screen to face him. Blinking blurry eyes and wincing at the sudden harsh brightness of the screen compared to the darkness of his sleep. He glimpsed an unknown number and slid the green icon across the touch screen. He cleared his throat and answered in a husky voice, heavy with the tendrils of sleep pulling at his words. “Hello?”

 

“Finally you answer Way way! I’ve been calling you all morning.” The energetic voice of Miles blurted through the speakers, causing Waylon to draw the phone away from his ear and scrunch his face up in displeasure. Miles was too hyper and noisy for it being so early in the morning. He gave his phone another glance at the screen and noticed three missed calls prior for the same unknown number. Blinking a few more times, he was able to focus on the time and realized it was already near 10 am.

 

“Miles? Why aren’t you using your own phone? Who’s number is this?” Waylon asked in confusion and was answered with the blaring horn of a semi passing on the other end and cursing.

 

“Come on fuckface! Move your ass! The light is green, let’s go!” An audible bang of Miles’ hands hitting the steering wheel of his jeep then the sudden hushed apology of Miles asking his jeep for forgiveness for being mean. A laugh followed and he turned his attention back to Waylon. “Oh, this? I forgot i got a new phone. Some hoity toity dipshit of a security guard broke mine when I took a few pictures of a building. I’ve been without one for a couple of days but the case if over now. Hey, by the way, where the fuck are you? I went to your apartment and your neighbor says you haven’t been there for a couple days. What the fuck man? You at some little girly’s place?”

 

Waylon groaned and shook his head, stretching out across the couch and draping his arms over his head. “Miles. Miles.” Waylon’s words repeated until the man finally stopped talking. The energy in his voice was too much for Waylon to process without a cup of coffee. “Why don’t we talk over breakfast? The little mom and pop place, alright?”

 

There was a momentary pause then a joyous laugh.”Alright Way Way. I was actually just thinking about getting some breakfast. I’ll meet you there! See you in a few Way Way!” The parting words were clipped short by more cursing that was abruptly stopped by the beep of an ended call. Waylon grunted and contemplated getting up off the couch. Another glance at the clock and the beginnings of his throbbing head crying out for a good cup of coffee were what spurred him to his feet. Getting dressed in a sluggish fashion. Jeans, white t-shirt, grey hoodie and the same old worn out white sneakers. He glanced down at his bag, contemplating bringing it with him, instead he tucked it under the couch out of the way and stuffed his phone in his pocket. On the way out the door, he brushed past Eddie who was mounting the steps with a gown in need of modifications for a young bride. His eyes were wide and startled at Waylon’s sudden descent.

 

“You’re up. Heading out?” Eddie’s eyes glanced over Waylon for a few heartbeats, noticing the man’s bag wasn’t with him, meaning he was coming back. At that little detail, Eddie let a smile spread across his features.

 

“Yeah. A friend of mine just got back in town and he wanted to have breakfast together and catch up. I’ll be gone only a couple hours.” Waylon rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling even more awkward than before. Not really sure why he was telling Eddie these details. His eyes turned down to gaze at the gown while he waited for Eddie to move a little to the side. His massive size blocking his path down the steps.

 

Eddie’s smile faltered at the sound of Waylon’s plans for the morning. A sudden rise of jealousy sparking inside him. He didn’t understand why he was so jealous of the smaller male. He was simply letting the poor boy stay with him. He had no control of his actions and who he saw while staying. But just like when he first laid eyes on Waylon, a sudden heated possessiveness flared inside him. He wanted this man all to himself. Seeing him wrapped in white, standing on a pedestal in his apartment, a visage of beauty and love. The deep blush on Waylon’s features stirring all sorts of odd feelings from deep down inside Eddie. It stirred even more than that, causing Eddie to retreat to the shop to calm down. He held that image in his mind as he regarded Waylon’s outing. _No matter what, he is mine. A simple friend will not take that from me. Nobody will. Even if i have to…._

 

He let those thoughts stop there. Shaking them free of his mind to bury the brutal memories that threatened to corrupt the vision of purity that Waylon had built in Eddie's mind. “I see. Have a good time darling. Do be careful. Blaire will not give up so easily on what he wants.” Eddie warned, giving Waylon’s shoulder a gentle pat and squeeze before stepping aside and ushering him past. Waylon looked a bit surprised and nodded, giving Eddie a quick smile of appreciation before darting off towards the diner of choice.

 

Luckily enough it was just a couple streets over. Still, Miles managed to get there before him, his old rust red jeep was parked out front on the street. The smell of coffee and breakfast delights greeted Waylon as he entered the small hole in the wall restaurant, well known for it’s breakfast and old timey interior decor. With the faded red booths with frayed cushions to the worn out tablestops with chrome lining and barstools at the front counter. There were no  sets of just tables. Just booths or the counter. Scanning around the room, the counter lined with elderly men having their coffee and settled in for idle chit chat. He spotted the only occupied booth with a head of seemingly perfect brown hair, swept out of the normally frazzled male’s face. A milkshake sat in front of him and it appeared he had already gone ahead with his order, sitting alone and scanning through footage on his camcorder.

 

Waylon had plopped down into the seat across from Miles and it seemed the waitress noticed him before his old friend did. His eyes intently focused on the screen of the cherished camera. It was old but never let Miles down and was a gift when he was back in high school. The thing never really left Miles’ side. It was a lot like Waylon and his laptop.

 

Ordering a coffee from the waitress, it wasn’t long before he was sipping at the bitter black brew and releasing a long content sigh of relief before Miles finally raised his head and gave Waylon a massive questionable grin. His eyes were wild and bloodshot like he was on his third day of no sleep and 10th shot of espresso that morning. He certainly had the energy for it. “Hey Way Way!” Miles was almost too loud for the hushed chatter in the restaurant, causing Waylon to wince. He smile at Miles over the rim of his coffee, letting the bitter brew slide down his throat while he waited for Miles to start talking about his trip. Seeing the way the brown haired male practically brimmed eager to discuss it.

 

He gave a nod towards the male and Miles went off in a tangent, talking about priests and cults and fiery sacrifices on crosses and bodies burning up. It was quite the tale and Miles even offered to show him the footage of when the head priest commanded his followers to set him ablaze in the name of some deity. _Ryder? Wallander? Something along those lines._ He thought to himself, listening and nodding and cringing at the in depth detail Miles put into his story. Making Waylon glad he settled with just his coffee. Not sure how Miles can stomach anything after what he went through.

 

It was when the waitress had brought Miles food, which consisted of a whole four stack of pancakes, a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns and six strips of bacon, three sausage links, a plate with three pieces of toast and cup of sausage gravy to dunk it in and another milkshake. How in the world the man was going to eat all that was beyond Waylon. But with how ravenous Miles was, chances were he probably spent the whole time running on coffee, bags of chips and energy drinks with an extremely high caffeination content and enough sugar to make a dentist nauseas. The ring of the bell above the door sounded, drawing Waylon’s attention as two large forms entered the restaurant, taking a booth closest to the door and with a clear view of Waylon and Miles.

 

The figures were a familiar pair of brutish twins with beady eyes staring him down. The dark haired one wasn’t even subtle about turning around in his booth and eying Waylon menacingly. He gave them a strained smile and turned his head down to focus on his empty coffee cup. His stomach twisting into tight knots as the waitress came by to refill his cup before scurrying away to take the twin’s orders. “Way Way, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should eat something. My treat. You need to get some meat on those bones dude.” Miles' words lingered between him for a moment. The first time all morning that they had fallen quiet and lost their energy. Suddenly laced with concern at Waylon’s pale complexion.

“Waylon?” Miles asked again, reaching out for the smaller male’s hand but Waylon drew it away. Miles frown before he saw Waylon typing madly on his phone. He slid the device across the table when he was done, showing the notes section was open with letters scrawled across.

 

_“Whatever you do, just act normal. I’m being followed by some very bad people. They’re here and they’re watching us right now. Please don’t say anything.”_

 

Miles looked up from the phone to Waylon, seeing how uncomfortable his oldest friend was suddenly. The way he ducked his head as if he was trying to not be noticed. Trying his damndest to be invisible. Miles’ hand twitched and a static charge crawled up along his spine. It was the sort of feeling that arose when there was trouble afoot. Normally he was eager for a scoop but this time Waylon was wrapped up in the middle of it and seeing the timid male look so terrified made a fire blaze up inside him as well. Anger surging through him but he bit his lip and took a deep breath. Letting it go for the moment.

 

“Alright. Let me finish up and we can head back to my place to relax for a bit. It’s been awhile since i’ve been home and I haven’t kicked your ass in video games in a while.” Miles said in the most casual manner he could muster. Giving Waylon a reassuring smile. He didn’t need to say anything directly to Waylon for the smaller male to know the look in Miles eyes. The sort of look that says ‘ _I got your back. Everything is going to be alright.’_ It was a look Waylon could rely on and has relied on time and time again all throughout high school and college. Whenever the classroom bullies would target him, Miles was always there backing him up, smiling at him with a goofy grin wiping blood from his nose or icing his split lip. He gave Miles a smile in return and reclaimed his phone. Stuffing it into his pocket and fiddling with his coffee cup. Feeling safer with Miles by his side.

 

By time they left, the twins had gotten through their own cups of coffee and waited for them to climb up into Miles jeep and roll away before the piece of shit clunker fell in line behind them. Letting only a car or two to slip in between them and their target. It was unnerving to Waylon but Miles felt a sudden thrill at being tailed. He enjoyed these cat and mouse games and more often than not the big bad cats don’t realize they’re fucking with an old dog. “Don’t worry Way Way. I won’t let these fuckers near you.”

 

Miles apartment wasn’t very far out. It was a decent walk from Waylon’s in a small complex much the same. It was cheap, a single occupant dwelling that was more like Eddie’s only with an enclosed kitchen and the bathroom was attached to the bedroom instead of out on it’s own.  The living room was Miles’ workspace. Complete with a desk, a wall board that had his latest assignments hanging up on it with thumb tacks and twine strew about it like a connect the dots game. There was a coffee table that was buried under stacks of files, folders, photos and whatever else. Most of it had coffee stains on it and the coffee table looked no better with large mug rings scarring the wood. The place was a mess. There was no dining room table and the only seating was circular bean bag chairs. There was a large t.v on an entertainment center with a gaming system resting on it. A handful of games stuffed into the cabinets below.

 

Miles dropped his bag on the mess of papers and headed for the kitchen. “Way, you want a beer?” Miles’ voice drifted from the kitchen but Waylon shook his head and gave a soft absent ‘no’ in response. He walked over to the window near the t.v and peered through the dusty busted blinds out at the street below. The sickly hum of a bad engine whistled as he watched the beat up Mercedes roll on by. The two men inside staring up at the building, startling Waylon when he swore they could see him. He stumbled back, bumping into Miles who gripped Waylon’s shoulder reassuringly and pushed him down to plop onto a bean bag chair. The bag puffed up when the air was suddenly forced out of it and then slowly deflated. A cold bottle of water landing in his lap. Then came Miles' voice in the most serious and down to earth tone Waylon had ever heard in his life. “How about you tell me what the hell kind of mess you got yourself into Way? I want to help you buddy but you gotta let me in.”


	3. Troubles Never Cease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon still can't catch a break. Miles goes into full conspiracy nut mode.

It took Waylon a long time to finally muster the energy to tell Miles everything. Even the depth of his money troubles which he kept to himself not wanting to be a problem for his friend. Miles of course argued that Waylon was being a dumbass again and repeated the same old thing that he would give Waylon his right arm if the man needed it. Waylon would nod along and sigh, allowing a small smile to grace his lips at the momentary distraction and support before his troubles wiped that away and he continued explaining. Meanwhile, Miles wrote down a flurry of notes on a small pad of paper and tucked it into his pocket, giving Waylon a reassuring smile.

After the talk, Miles turned on the console and tossed a controller to Waylon and they toiled away hours playing video games. Allowing Waylon a brief blissful escape and to relieve his stress killing hordes of the undead with Miles by his side. Bantering back and forth until Miles’ stomach started to growl and Waylon took a moment to realize just how late it was. Miles offered to let Waylon stay with him but the thought of the twins or Blaire storming into Miles’ apartment in search of Waylon was too much for his conscience to bare. 

He reminded his old friend that he already had a place to stay, having mentioned Eddie earlier as a good samaritan. He left with a promise to text Miles when he was home safe and started the long slow trek back to Eddie’s. Whatever relief he had obtained with Miles was quickly lost, cast away by the eerie silence of the streets and the growing darkness overhead. He picked up the pace when the street lights came on, eager to get back to the safety of Eddie’s apartment.

He had just reached the block the shop was on when the ear piercing whistle of a shitty engine came rolling up on him. He hurried the rest of the way, turning into the alley, his gaze tossed back over his shoulder in paranoia that the twins would drive up into there to take him. He didn’t notice the looming form until he crashed right smack into it. Large hands gripped his shoulders tightly, causing Waylon to jerk away but to no avail. A terrified yelp leaving his lips as a husky voice broke the silence. Thick with concern. “Waylon? Where have you been? I was worried something had happened-”

The cringe worthy whistling slowed down by the entrance and the twins gazed out of the windows at the pair. Eddie’s eyes narrowed and a sharpness entered his tone. “Come inside.” Before he could even register Eddie’s presence, an arm had looped securely around his shoulders and pulled him up the stairs. By time Waylon’s thundering heart had a chance to calm down, Eddie had shut the door and locked it, turning to Waylon who was now a trembling mess. As pale as the fabric Eddie worked with daily.

His hardened gaze softened at the sight. “Oh Waylon.” He breathed, his tone sympathetic and caring. “It's alright. You're safe.” He murmured, drawing closer to the smaller male and placing both hands on his shoulders. Waylon’s head remained dipped down and his blue eyes squeezed shut. It pained Eddie to see him like this. So afraid for his life. Jumpy and looking over his shoulder. He wanted to help him but he wasn't sure what he could do to quell the man's fears. All he had were words and he wasn't sure that would be enough to help.

Waylon spent the next couple days hiding in the apartment, wallowing in fear and self-pity. Occasionally glancing out the windows when he heard that telltale sound of the twins driving by. That wasn’t the only times he would stare out the windows, searching the streets, despite his fear, he couldn’t stand not knowing. Awaiting the day Blaire will come barging in on them. Certain Eddie’s influence and power had a limit and Blaire would wait only so long before his patience wears out. 

By Thursday, Waylon was forced to face the fact he could only call in sick to work so much before the chance of losing the only income he had would become all too real. Eddie had tried to persuade him to do his work from home but there was only so much he could do off site on his laptop. He needed to be directly connected with some of the systems at his job in order to do the heavy duty work and make sure it’s fail proof. He argued that he couldn’t leech off of Eddie so much and that he needed to keep his job.

So against Eddie’s better judgement, Waylon headed to work the next day. The walk to work was quiet and things were looking up. But that didn’t stop Waylon’s paranoia or the constant looking around over his shoulder. Searching every dark vehicle that drove by for the familiar forms of the twins. As he neared his workplace, he kept his head down and stepped through the doors. Greeted by the kind smiles of his coworkers. A flash of concern crossing the receptionist’s face when she noticed the healing bruising on Waylon’s face. It was now a fading sickly yellow but Waylon could handle that. It was far more preferable than the deep black bruise that had been his eye the Friday before.

He gave them a reassuring smile and made haste to his small office workspace. It was no more than a closet space to be honest. With a desk and a couple servers inside. He had a few personal items sitting on the desk, a rubber flex ball with octagonal patterns all over it. Something to help when stressed or feeling restless. Or while simply waiting for programs to load and update or sync. He shut the door, plopped down in the chair with a sigh and set up his laptop. While it loaded the latest program he had created, he fidgeted with the ball a little bit, more nervous than anything else before taking the opportunity to sneak out and snag himself a cup of coffee from the lounge area.

As he was heading back to his little room, the familiar shrill whistling noise came and a glare off a passing car hit him through the large glass front of the small building. Looking over the receptionist’s desk, he caught a glimpse of the old Mercedes slowly trolling by. A smug grin from the dark haired twin driving was shot at him and Waylon paled, nearly dropping his coffee as he retreated to his office, shutting the door and deciding not to leave it’s safety unless absolutely necessary.

Which that necessity came a few hours later when his lunch break was. His stomach growled noisily, begging him to leave the safety of his work space to seek out food. He cursed himself for not bringing a lunch with him. Eddie even offered to make him something but Waylon declined, plagued with the sickening fears twisting up his stomach and chasing away his appetite as well as not wanting to take more than necessary from Eddie’s generosity. He feared he was starting to overstay his welcome despite Eddie seeming perfectly happy with his company. Especially when he wrangled Waylon into helping him with dress fittings at the end of the work day.

Waylon had just leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the ball in his lap and staring down the screen. His stomach continuing to growl its displeasure at feeling so empty. He chewed on his lip and shook his head, leaning forward to place the ball back on his desk. Just as he let it go, he jumped, startled by the sudden click of the doorknob as his door opened and one of his coworkers entered. A young woman with bright green eyes and a cheerful smile greeted him. She was newer to the company, working on advertising and public relations. She worked on the social side of the company, dealing with clients and other businesses. She also had a rather large crush on Waylon and remained a friendly bit of support after the break up with Lisa. “Sorry to disturb you Waylon, but I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me for lunch.”

“Uh, thanks Sarah but I’ve actually got a lot of work to catch up on. Maybe next time.” Waylon tried to politely decline. His fear of leaving the office anymore then necessary still had an iron grip curled into him.

“Nonsense Waylon. You deserve a short break after all your hard work.” She grabbed him by his hands and pulled him up onto his feet. “Come on silly. My treat.” Waylon gave his laptop and the safety of his office a wistful look before giving in with a sigh of defeat and letting her whisk him away to a burger joint down the street.

Turns out the break was exactly what Waylon needed to clear his head. Plus side, there wasn’t a single sign of the twins anywhere or their infernal squealing hell machine of a car. Half an hour later and he was feeling much better. A good meal in his empty stomach sated a portion of his anxieties and the friendly atmosphere of the eatery helped with the rest. Idle chit chat and laughter sounded from their booth as they talked, mostly Sarah did. Their conversation lingering on their high school years and how big the world seemed after that. Then moving on to mentions of college and the stupid things they did in their dorms and what not. By time Waylon got back to his office, he felt a weight had lifted a little off his shoulders and he could walk a little easier without the sneaking sickness worming into his stomach.

He actually mourned the fact he had to head back to work but he felt like the day was looking up for him. Just a couple more hours and he’d be home where he could relax, safe and sound. Walking into the office with Sarah ahead of him, the receptionist stopped him, pausing her phone call to give him a smile. “There’s a man waiting for you in your office, Waylon. He didn’t leave a name. Tall, well dressed, charming...”

Waylon looked confused for a moment but the description painted the image rather well. Making him wonder why Eddie would be here. Maybe he decided he'd bring him lunch anyway. Or he could just be checking up on him. Either way, Waylon didn’t mind. It felt nice. So with that he smiled and mouthed a thank you to the woman before heading back to his office.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted with a pleasant tone. “Hello Waylon.” But the words drifted from the lips of a viper. The man waiting for him was not Eddie. The expensive blue suit and dark slicked back hair was a dead give away. The man sat comfortably in Waylon’s chair, tossing the ball up and down rather casually. “Come in. Shut the door behind you.”

Waylon didn’t know why he had listened, stepping over the threshold and pushing his door shut. The click was deafening in his ears as he caged himself in with the lion he feared the most. A smile spread across Jeremy Blaire’s face at Waylon’s obedience and that maggot worming feeling toiled inside him. Eating away at his stomach and making him feel ill. His heart hammering in his chest as the silence that fell between them was maddening. He could still run. Open the door and shout for help. Call the police, something. But he didn’t. 

He stood stone still. Terrified of the fact that the boogie man was sitting so casually in front of him. Watching him with the eyes of a hawk. Taking in the sight before him, the wide fearful expression, the way Waylon’s shoulders hunched as if already submitting to defeat and how his hands had a slight tremble to them. Even as Waylon attempted to furl his fingers into fists to hide it. Jeremy saw it. He saw it all. Waylon’s mouth became dry and he struggled to find words.

He didn’t have to worry for long as Jeremy stood up with ease. His shoulders back and his posture an air of confidence. The prowess of an alpha male, bred to command and control all those beneath him. And Waylon was most certainly beneath him. An ant to be squashed at the moment and however Jeremy saw fit. Of course, simply getting rid of said ant wouldn’t be as fun. No, it was more fun to be holding the magnifying glass and watching it squirm and scatter. Scrambling to flee but trapped in the tiny box of it’s pitiful existence with the ever looming shadow of death.

“Sit down Waylon. Let’s talk.” He gestured towards the chair and it took everything Waylon had to force himself to take those short few steps towards it. Slowly lowering himself in the seat and further boxing himself in. Allowing Jeremy to place himself between him and the only exit. The office chair had been pushed back against the wall and Jeremy pressed the lock on the door to ensure nobody interrupts them before sitting on the edge of Waylon’s desk. One leg propped on the corner while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. 

The ball still in his hand as he toyed with it. Rolling it around as he spoke. “I’m disappointed in you Waylon. I helped you out of the kindness of my own heart and this is how you repay me?” Jeremy’s voice held an essence of mock hurt before it suddenly sharpened and he leaned forward, closing the space between them and adding to the flashing red alarms in the back of Waylon’s mind that screamed at him to run. But he couldn’t, paralyzed by fear and what Jeremy might do shoulder he try. “Running away and hiding from my boys.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Blaire, plea-” Jeremy tutted quietly and reached forward with both hands, silencing Waylon mid sentence, the ball still held in the grasp of one. He gently caressed the side of Waylon’s face with a tender touch that further instilled fear into him.

Blaire hushed Waylon, seeing the male appeared he was about to get rather loud with his pleas. “Now, now Waylon. I want you to listen and listen good. I’m only going to say this once.”

Waylon swallowed thickly as the hand holding the ball drew away and he gestured with a finger for Waylon to take it from his hold. He raised both of his hands up and waited for the ball to be deposited into his grasp. His fingers no sooner curled around it in confusion, his eyes turned down for but a moment before both of Blaire’s hands enclosed his throat. Waylon’s breath hitched mid breath and he struggled to get air. Closing his eyes and pushing against Jeremy’s chest. The ball held in his grasp as he struggled weakly. “Open your eyes.” Blaire commanded calmly. Leaning in closer to Waylon’s ear as he murmured. “See your master.”

Waylon forced his eyes open as his face turned a deep red and then started turning from there. His vision was starting to blur and darken and his lungs burned, starved of air. Waylon’s thoughts raced as he saw his end coming here. Strangled to death in his office. His blue eyes gaining a bug eyed appearance as he stared up at Blaire’s smiling face. It was a pleased smile. One of approval at the suffocating man’s obedience. “Good boy.” 

His grip relaxed and he moved his hands to cup Waylon’s face on both sides. Running his thumb over Waylon’s cheek as the smaller male gasped for air and took in great heaving breaths. Once again he was hushed softly. Blaire’s gestures all too sweet and gentle after the brutality he just showed. A hand stroked through Waylon’s hair softly to calm him as he spoke. “I own you Waylon. Remember that. If you ever run from me or my boys again, I can easily end you.”

Waylon coughed furiously and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep what little composer he had left. His eyes watering from the force of his coughing, letting a tear slip from the corner of his eyes. One that Jeremy gently wiped away. His body trembling and he flinched at the slightest movement from Blaire. He nodded slowly in understanding as he spoke in a shaky voice. “Y-yes sir.”

“Good boy. Now, you better get back to work.” That was all he was given before Blaire patted his cheek and straightened up. Fixing his suit and giving Waylon a smile before he unlocked the door and easily walked out. Waylon heard Blaire thank the receptionist for allowing him a moment with his _‘dear old acquaintance.’_ His coworkers easily tricked into thinking Jeremy was an old friend of his and they had all sorts of history together.

Waylon rubbed at his throat and shut the door once he was certain Blaire was gone. Locking himself away, not to work but to simply hide and shed more than a few tears as he faced the harsh truth. He was so deep into the rabbit hole, he couldn’t see light anymore. There was no getting out of it, he was certain. Even if he paid Jeremy back. The man made it clear Waylon had lost all hope of being free of his grasp. By hiding at Eddie’s and fleeing the twins, thinking he was staying far from Blaire’s reach, he had only cemented Blaire’s hold on him.

As Waylon was leaving work, the last few hours spent in despair over the past couple weeks, his phone hummed madly in his pocket. Vibrating wildly until it got on his frazzled nerves enough to be forced to answer it. Fingers fumbled to pull it from his pocket, sliding the icon across the screen a bit too late as the call ended but not before Waylon snapped. “What?!” He heard the end beep and he looked at his screen to see Miles’ picture next to a _missed call_ notification. “Fuck!” He blurted, gaining a few displeased stares his way at the sudden outburst. A text flashed across the screen from Miles.

_Miles Upshur:_

_“Way, you need to get your ass over here. I got something you’ll want to hear. Can’t say it over the phone. Hurry up!”_

 

 _Just fucking perfect._ Waylon growled, shoving his phone in his pocket and making haste towards Miles’ apartment. His nerves were frazzled enough as is and he was on the verge of calling it quits. To just let the universe claim him. Even entertaining the idea of walking out into traffic. Stepping in front of a public transit bus or dropping off a platform in front of an amtrak sounded like fun. A nice quick end. A thousand times better than being trapped in this cat and mouse game with Blaire forever.

Of course he didn’t carry out his ideas and ended up standing outside of Miles’ apartment. About to knock when the door was thrown open and he was abruptly pulled inside. Miles searching both ends of the hall for anyone that might see him before shutting and locking the door. Waylon was ushered into the living room where the place actually looked messier if that were even possible and the cluster of papers and files on the coffee table over flowed onto the floor underneath and around. Miles had dark undereye circles and his eyes were even more bloodshot making Waylon question if his old friend had slept at all since he last seen him. The man was in full conspiracy theorist mode, already fumbling through a large overstuffed notebook on the coffee table while using the pen to itch at the side his head. Leaving ink smudges on his hands before he started talking.

Waylon took his seat on the bean bag chair, not even bothering to remove his bag from his shoulder, though from the looks of Miles, chances were he was going to be here for a while. “Alright Miles, I’m here. What is it?”

His voice was snipped, drawing an odd look from Miles who seemed to notice it but quickly brushed it off as he started speaking quickly. A flurry of words and information suddenly unleashed like a tidal wave on Waylon. “Okay, so after you left Monday night, i got to thinking about Jeremy Blaire and his shitty little empire. So I did some deeper digging. Trying to find some dirt on the guy.” Miles flipped through a bunch of pages until he found a handful of articles and possible charges against the guy and his organization but none ever stuck.

“So we know Jeremy Blaire is the current head for the Murkoff Family which is a big time organized crime family. Their previous head had no heirs and Blaire was entrusted to take the reins and since, Murkoff has tripled in size and power. They’ve got a lot of big time baddies who have been investigated for having links to the black market and the drug trade all over. They’ve got an ass-load of money with deep deep pockets and with it a shit ton of influence and power over the local government. These guys have enough grasp that they even have most of the police force and politicians in their back pockets.” 

Miles laid out a handful of photos that he got from a trustworthy source of his that had been taken of several high ranking officers and citizens doing shady deals and meetings with Murkoff family henchmen. “They’ve been linked to multiple political deaths, the sex slave trade, prostitution and the drug trade. Having contacts and shipments sent all over the world to big time dealers to spread their goods around on the streets. High grade stuff, experimental and some of it is killer at first shot.”

A whole pile of photos of drug overdoses and dead bodies was spread across the table before Waylon. Some of them looking well over decomposed and making Waylon’s sick feeling rise back up and crash over him. He turned his head away and covered his mouth. Taking a few seconds to breath and calm down while Miles sorted through his notebook, looking for more information he was going to give his old friend. So far none of this was helpful, only making Waylon see how much worse his current situation was. “Miles..” Waylon said, almost pleading the man to stop. He didn’t know the gravity of the situation and just how fucked up it was. And hearing all of this wasn’t helping. He didn’t want to know it. He didn’t want to face the nightmares of _what could happen to him._

Miles proceeded to go on about the different cases and charges against Blaire specifically. Laying out all sorts of newspaper articles and clippings. Some were printed off of a computer and some were cut out of actual old newspapers. There were others among them as well, one about the Twins charged with murder, beating a man to death and cutting out his tongue and a few other body parts. Those charges never stuck as the supposed witness disappeared before they could make their testimony and the twins got away with a few months of lock up and they were out scott free. Another one linked Blaire to several deaths, one being the involvement of a very suspicious car accident and the untimely demise of another by overdose for a man who had never touched a drug in his life.

Then the brother of the overdose victim went after Blaire only to be found a couple weeks later hanging in his apartment for his wife to find. A suspicious note was left stating he simply couldn’t handle the death of his dearly beloved brother and ended his life. The man had no priors of depression and was determined to take down Blaire. Yet the police left it as a suicide. Photos and clippings littered the coffee table and some were far more gruesome than the rest. 

Some showed dead sex slaves both men and women, who tried to flee. Some with the initial cause of death being overdose from copious amounts of opiates and hallucinogens. Doped up beyond belief. There were bodies of teenage kids amidst it as well. Young kids, high school dropouts, missing persons, abductees. Some were even mutilated, missing body parts and looking like the sickening end result of a medical operation gone wrong. Just blatant torture.

Waylon couldn’t stand it anymore, amidst one of Miles’ continued explanations, he got up and bolted for the bathroom. Leaving Miles standing in the living room while he was sick. Emptying the contents of his stomach and holding tight to the toilet like it was his lifeline. He went until he was left with painful dry heaves. Wrenching his guts as his body trembled and shook. Giving it all he had before rocking back and collapsing with his back against the tub. Pulling the lever as he did so. 

The cold surface of the tub felt good against his hot skin, his legs partially bent before him as he propped his elbow against his knee and rested his head in his palm. His hand covering his face as he sniffled. Taking a shuddering breath. He didn’t even hear Miles walk in until the cool damp touch of a cold bottle of water was pressed against the side of his face. He looked up startled before accepting it.

A hand patted Waylon’s shoulder as Miles took a seat on the edge of the tub. His back against the wall, facing Waylon. One leg propped up on the edge, stretched out while the other was bent down, foot planted firmly against the floor. “I’m sorry.” Those words slipped into the silence between them as Waylon sipped at the water. “You probably didn’t want to hear all that…”

Miles’ released a long deep sigh, turning his head up to stare at the dying light above them. The old bulb buzzed and hummed, working on the end of it’s life. He pondered it for a few minutes, searching for something to say. Waylon knew what he wanted to say, especially after hearing all of that. His thoughts lingering on Blaire’s words to him earlier. He wanted to protect the people around him. The people he cared about. He didn’t want them to end up like the loved ones of Blaire's past victims. Becoming just another dead body in a morgue. On a cold slab of metal with no one to mourn them. “I’m leaving Eddie’s place. I’m going to head back to my apartment. I don’t want him to be wrapped up in this because of me.”

“I think it’s too late for that Way.” Miles said casually, causing Waylon to look up at his friend, creasing his features with concern.

“What do you mean?” Waylon was answered by a newspaper article. Old by quite a few years. Looking at it, he spotted a photo of a widowed young mother, long dark hair falling over her shoulders and features fallen in sorrow. She was dressed all in black. Her hands folded in front of her. Beside her was a younger Eddie. Probably ten or so years younger. His hand clasped his mother’s shoulder as he held her in a gesture of comfort. His features hard and stoic, eyes cold and distant. 

The headlines depicting a family in mourning after the murder of Eddie’s father and uncle. Two caskets laid to rest at the same time and no killer had been found. There was mention of the Gluskin family deaths being tied to Blaire. A family debt paid in blood. Suspicions were aroused that Eddie’s father and uncle may have owed the Murkoff Family a substantial amount of money and when they couldn’t pay it up, they paid with their lives. Leaving behind a son and wife in mourning.  


	4. From Bad to Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit never goes right for Waylon. Why should it start now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super duper sorry for the late update. It's a week over due but i really needed that week long break. A lot of stuff wasn't working out for me. Kind of like Waylon's life in this chapter. Only not THAT badly. But i had a lot of bad days and I entered a depressed sort of rut and didn't even have the energy to so much as look at my laptop and think of writing. Which made me feel worse. But after a weekend of binging on a bunch of new anime movies and series i started, I feel recharged (somewhat) enough to write an entire chapter in a night and update. I look forward to getting back on track and continuing this story so i can hear more of you my lovely readers. I enjoy hearing what you all have to say so be sure to comment below after reading. It makes my day seeing a message in my inbox. ^.^ Thank you all for being so patient with me.

Waylon had gotten in late that night after a ride back to Eddie’s place but he couldn’t help not thinking about what Eddie had lost and suffered because of Blaire. Of losing his family like that and Waylon couldn’t stand the thought that he was bringing that kind of trouble right back to Eddie’s life. He didn’t get any sleep all night and ended up passing out from exhaustion right before Eddie left to open the shop. By noon, he was up and had cleaned up with a hot shower and ended up sitting on the couch, looking over that article Miles had given him. Seeing Eddie’s features so cold and hard in that picture. Trying to imagine what that would be like to lose his family and know someone else was at fault. How much him and his mother must have suffered afterward, seeing the culprit get away scott free.

 

Waylon sighed and shook his head, sitting the article on the table and looking up at the clock. Eddie would be in the shop for a few more hours which gives him enough time to get his things and return home without Eddie seeing. He knew it was cowardly to just up and leave like this but he needed to think. He needed to leave Eddie’s place to avoid provoking Blaire’s wrath.

 

Unfortunately, once he was dressed and was tucking the last of his things away into his bag, Eddie walked through the door carrying another dress in hand to be altered and placed on the mannequin. His eyes fixed on Waylon when he noticed the bags lying on the couch, one of which was open and the old article sitting on the coffee table. The funeral image catching his eye the most but he turned them back up to Waylon. A fleeting look of hurt flashing across his face but he pushed those feelings away and settled with a look of concern. “Waylon, what’s going on?”

 

“Eddie, I..” Waylon started, seeing Eddie’s gaze take in the article and his things. His eyes fell to the coffee table, settling on that for the moment as he waited for Eddie to be furious with him. He shifted nervously at first, trying to find something to say but his words failed him.

 

“You were going to leave without saying anything?” Eddie spoke first, which both relieved and worried Waylon. It hurt, not because of the assumption but because Eddie was right. He was going to leave and not say anything. He didn’t want to be a burden anymore.

 

Eddie didn’t need a vocal answer to his question. Waylon’s silence did the job for him. He laid the gown down on his work table and approached the coffee table. Waylon shifted back and plopped down onto the couch in automatic defeat. His hands resting nervously in his lap. Everything that Blaire had said and Miles’ words circled around inside his head still leaving him a frazzled and jumpy mess. And here he was a nervous wreck, afraid of the one man who had helped him out the most in all of this. Afraid of hurting Eddie more than he already has. Eddie took the article in hand, his large hulking form looming over Waylon and he felt like a kid caught by his father reading something he’s not supposed to.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.” Waylon apologized softly as Eddie reached down, cupping gently under his chin and drawing his gaze up to meet his. He gave Waylon a soft reassuring smile but within Eddie’s eyes, Waylon could see there was pain in them. It made him feel even worse. Prodding him to finally speak. “I was going to call you after I left. When you closed the shop. I’m going home. I can’t keep hiding here. It’ll just bring you trouble and I have to get back to my apartment. I can’t miss another rent payment and I can’t afford to miss anymore work…”

 

Eddie sighed and shook his head slowly, letting go of Waylon’s chin and stepping away. Sitting the article back on the table. “There’s nothing to apologize for Waylon. I didn’t mourn the death of my father or my uncle. They were worthless freeloading scum who did the world good by leaving it.” There was a sharpness to Eddie’s tone when mentioning his family that made Waylon jolt in his seat.  “As far as going back to your place. My only request is that you hold off on doing that until tomorrow. I can give you a ride and check it out to make sure you’re safe. That’s all I ask.”

 

Waylon looked down at the article and nodded slowly. He bit the inside of his lip and shifted in place, glancing over at the seat beside him where his open bag laid. He sighed and gave in, knowing Eddie would be more determined to stop him if he didn’t and Waylon honestly didn’t have the nerve or the strength to forced his way past the larger male if it came to that. But it could be worse. At least he wouldn’t be alone for another night and he had really gotten used to Eddie’s company. Going back to the lone empty apartment was a depressing thought but it was his choice. “Alright, I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

 

“Great!” Eddie smiled widely in sudden joy. “That means I still have my model for another day.” That was enough to pull a smile on Waylon’s lips and relieve most of his nerves.

 

 

 

The next day didn’t seem as daunting to head back to his apartment as it did when Waylon wished to do it behind his back. He found comfort in Eddie’s presence as usual, having him by his side protecting him from whatever shadows awaited him. It had been over a week since he had last been there. It wasn’t all that far and Eddie remembered the route back to it relatively easy. Traffic was crazy as usual but that was to be expected. Entering the apartments, the place seemed more empty than usual. The apartments were just like Miles’ place, actually owned by the same company so the layout design was the same. The only difference was that Waylon’s place was OCD clean. Completely spotless and well taken care of and with more furniture.  But only because he had a majority of the stuff from his college days. Making the place a functioning living space.

 

Waylon sat his bags on the couch and sighed, glancing around at his apartment. It had the scent of not being lived in in a while and a stuffiness to the air making him want to open a window or two. He watched as Eddie moved throughout the apartment, checking each room and turning on the lights. He inspected the shelves and windows and doors for any tampering before returning to the living room to look over Waylon. “Everything looks alright. Nice place. Very clean.”

 

Waylon nodded and gave a soft smile. “Thank you Eddie, I don’t know how I could repay you for your help.”

 

“It’s alright Waylon. Just stop by the shop one in a while and help me with a few gowns. That’s all I ask.” Eddie patted Waylon’s shoulder lightheartedly. He watched as Waylon seemed to relax and nodded in agreement.

 

“Alright. Thank you.”

 

“I should be getting back to the shop. I’ve got three gowns in need of alterations before tomorrow. Plenty of work now that the wedding season has come. You should get some rest. You look worn out.” Waylon nodded again, he certainly felt drained. He hadn’t been sleeping well since his unwelcome visit from Blaire and then the talk with Miles. It weighed heavily upon his mind and was dragging him down to the point he was too tired to function but unable to fall asleep. He didn’t even have the energy to be suspicious or defensive anymore. Or even to fight Eddie about coming today. He felt better knowing Eddie had his back in all this. They were complete strangers and yet Eddie had taken him in and under his protection. That was something he still wondered about. As to why the tailor found such an interest in him and allowed this kind of trouble back into his life when it appeared he had finally rid himself of Blaire.

 

Waylon was lost in thought when Eddie started to depart. They spoke a few brief words in parting and Waylon promised to stop by the shop after work someday during the week. Once he was alone, he threw open a window and crashed onto the couch, knocking his bags aside in the process to scatter across the floor. For the moment, he didn’t care about the disorganization. He was exhausted and just wanted some rest.

 

Which only lasted for about an hour before his phone started to buzz wildly in his pocket. He grunted and shifted in place, trying to ignore the hum but after a few minutes, he gave into the sound and dug it out to look at the lit up screen. A notification flashed across it from an unknown number as it continued to vibrate in his grasp. He frowned, thinking Miles broke or lost his phone again.  With a tired sigh, he slid the green icon across the screen and answered with a gruff voice. Husky with sleep still hanging to the edges. “What is it now?”

 

“Now Waylon, is that anyway to talk to your master?” The deep voice on the other end rang with a sick amusement. Waylon’s eyes widened as ice nestled into his veins and he pushed himself upright on the couch.

 

“Mr. Blaire? I- I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else, I-”

 

Jeremy cut Waylon off, tutting at him like scolding a troublesome child. “That doesn’t matter Waylon. You should know better. Now, we have business to attend to. I’m sending a car over to your apartment to pick you up at 6 o’clock tonight. Be ready when they come. I don’t like to wait. Am I understood?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Good. See you tonight Waylon.” Then the phone beeped to signal the end of the call, leaving Waylon sitting alone in silence, staring at his phone in fear and apprehension. Suddenly wishing Eddie was there with him but he shook that thought from his head and told himself these were his problems and he would face them, no matter what. He had to.

 

 

 

When six o’clock came around, Waylon was pacing his apartment nervously. Unable to sit still or relax for a moment. He had already showered and changed into some nicer cleaner clothes. Making himself look more presentable with a light blue button up shirt and a pair of dark slacks. His usual work wear. He didn’t want Blaire to know just how much he got to him. Right at the stroke of six, there came a knock on the door. Waylon had just enough time to grab his jacket before the door was pushed open to show the twins standing in the entrance. A cold chill ran down his spine once more at the sight of the two beefy men filling his entryway. Even more unsettling was the fact they had opened the door which Waylon swore he had locked after Eddie had left.

 

He greeted them with a nod that was not returned at all and was guided outside to the car. Squeezing into the backseat of the clunker, it was a long quiet ride to Blaire’s condo in the heart of the city. Well, it was quiet in terms of conversation. The clunker was never quiet with it’s signature whistling engine like a bad warning alarm. It sent all kinds of red flags up in the back of his mind. When they did finally reach the massive skyscraper rising high into the darkening skyline, they pulled into the dark underground parking garage where two more men in dark suits met them. Waylon was escorted out of the vehicle by the men and guided to a private elevator that was unlocked with a specialized keycard. The elevator rose all the way up to the top floor where Blaire resided.

 

It was your typical rich person type condo. Lots of glass and monotone colors and very sparse furniture. A bar was set up near the large glass windows with a handful of booze decanters and bottles sitting out. There was a sliding door that led out onto a balcony with a million dollar view of the city lights. Giving the owner the perfect view of the nightlife down below. Blaire stood beside the bar, a phone to his ear as he spoke to someone and his other hand pouring himself a glass of bourbon on the rocks. He took his time finishing his conversation, gazing out at the growing darkness, eyes roaming over the lights down below like stars in the sky but jeremy’s eyes were indifferent to the beauty of Denver at night. All the while Waylon stood between the two very intimidating guards. It was when Jeremy had finished speaking that he finally gave Waylon notice, sipping at his glass idly before addressing the guards. “You two, Trager has a task for you. Got another mess to clean up in his lab. Get going.”

 

“Yes sir.” The men said in quick unison, leaving Waylon to stand awkwardly on his own as the men departed the room. Leaving them completely alone now. Jeremy took his glass over to the expensive black leather armchair that was across from a matching sofa. A crystal coffee table separating them. He sat down, his legs crossed in an air of arrogance and dominance, sipping at his drink. Once again pretending Waylon didn’t exist. Showing Waylon just who exactly was in charge here. Waylon was being the obedient pet once more, standing where he was left, awaiting his master’s next command.

 

“Sit down Waylon, let’s talk.” Jeremy gestured to the sofa and Waylon obeyed silently. Sitting down with his hands folded in his lap like a nervous school boy being called in by his principal for fucking up. Jeremy seemed to notice the way Waylon didn’t meet his eyes contact and gave a smirk of approval at the submissive posture of the smaller male. “Now, I called you here to inform you, you no longer need to worry about the money. As i said before, I own you now. No money is necessary. Furthermore, I also own the pathetic little apartments you live in. consider it being under the Murkoff family protection. We own all of the buildings the previous holders did.” Jeremy took another carefree sip from his drink. Dark eyes fixed on Waylon as the horror spread across his features as those words set into his thoughts. Jeremy not only owned Waylon’s residence but he owned the place where Miles lived as well.

 

“You no longer need to pay rent for you or your friend to continue living in those disgusting excuses for a dwelling. Just as long as you do what I say, when I say it. Am I understood Waylon?” Jeremy’s words had broken Waylon from his thoughts and forced him deeper into the overwhelming fears that rose up inside him. Threatening to suffocate him. “If you fail to comply to these terms, Mr. Upshur just might end up having an accident. All those newspaper clippings and files lying around his place. He’s so clumsy, it wouldn’t be a surprise should a fire start suddenly in such hazardous conditions. It would be a damn shame too.”

 

Waylon swallowed thickly, feeling as if his heart had suddenly stopped. “What do you want Mr. Blaire?” His mind was already racing with his heart, a million ways bad things could happen to Miles because of him. The slightest upset with the man could mean the end of his best friend’s life. He was so worried about dragging Eddie into the middle of all this, he completely overlooked Miles’ safety in the midst of it all.

 

Jeremy’s face split into a wide pleased grin as he sat his glass down onto the coffee table. “I’ve told you before Waylon, you are to address me as Master. I own you, it would be best if you didn’t forget that.”

 

Waylon flinched at the reminder and nodded, watching Jeremy’s expression closely. He was like the cat that ate the canary. Completely pleased with himself. “Yes Master.”

 

“Now then, come here. Kneel down in front of me.” Jeremy gestured to the space between his legs and the coffee table. Already Waylon was getting red flags screaming in the back of his mind. A voice telling him to run for the door. To run away. To leave this all. But he had to swallow hard and force himself to obey. Rising to his feet. Reminding himself that Miles and Eddie’s lives were on the line. One wrong move and it’s there blood on his hands. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.

 

He took a deep breath and knelt between Jeremy’s legs. Once again he was met with that smug look on his face. He was so pleased with himself, it made Waylon sick. He steeled himself as he glanced up at Jeremy then back down at the floor, awaiting the next order. “Now, be a good pet and suck me off. If you do a good enough job, I’ll overlook your earlier screw up.”

 

That sent a shiver of revulsion lurching through Waylon. He hesitated before responding. He could feel those dark eyes staring him down, expectantly. Knowing he had Waylon in a corner. He had no way out of this. Just as expected, after a brief deep breath, shaky hands reached up and started to fumble with Jeremy’s belt. Pulling the straps through the buckle with some effort. His hands delved into the larger male’s trousers to withdraw the half hard member already twitching with interest. It was apparent to Waylon that seeing his like this got jeremy excited. Being able to have him by the throat like this. It made him wonder if he had been like this after his abrupt visit to his work the other day. It made that unsightly scene all the more unbearable in Waylon’s head.

 

He stroked the shaft of Jeremy’s length. Trying to work himself up to it, slowly. Normally Jeremy would be impatient with such slow progress but with Waylon it was entertaining, seeing how disgusted and repulsed the younger male was. How hesitant he was ad how much he struggled to force himself to do such things. It got him even harder just thinking about it which surprised Waylon as the length grew in his grasp. “Quit staring pet and use your fucking mouth.” Jeremy barked at Waylon. Not because he was angry but because he enjoyed seeing the man flinch with fear. The sudden onslaught of anxiety. Knowing if he screwed up of displeased Jeremy, there could be deadly consequences.

 

As Waylon took the length into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut to try and ignore the fact he was doing this to another man, the wet heat drew a pleasant groan from Jeremy. But that alone wasn’t enough to get him off. This wasn’t his first time nor would it ever be his last. Or even Waylon’s last for that matter. Jeremy had all sorts of plans for his new little pet. But for now, he would let him grasp the ropes a little. Just enough to get him off the ground. Starting with how to give a half decent blowjob. As Waylon started to suck along the shaft, Jeremy winced and grabbed a fistful of Waylon’s hair, jerking his head back suddenly. “Use your fucking teeth again and I’ll rip them out of your goddamn head. Got it?”

 

Waylon’s eyes were wide with fear ash he nodded his head quickly, his face twisted in a grimace from the pain bursting hi his skull and the disgusting bitter taste on his tongue. Jeremy growled and pressed Waylon’s head back down onto his length, forcing it partially down Waylon’s throat, making the male choke. A moan left Jeremy’s lips as Waylon’s throat constricted around his head. After a moment, he let go of Waylon’s hair and let him recollect himself and start working on his own.

 

Waylon was slow at his work and very clumsy. He couldn’t take enough in his mouth at once and choked too easily. Most prostitutes could give a better blowjob in half the time and that’s half unconscious with drugs in their system. But Jeremy didn’t want just any whore’s mouth. He wanted his cute little pet to polish his cock himself. “Use your tongue Park. It’s not a fucking lollipop. Jesus christ, did your girlfriend never blow you?” After a few more trial and error, Waylon was just starting to get the hang of it but jeremy was tired of being hard and no closer to release so he let Waylon use his hands to work him the rest of the way. Being sure to grab a fistful of Waylon’s hair and shoving his cock half way down the smaller male’s throat when cumming.

 

Waylon choked as the hot seed shot down his throat, making him feel like he was suffocating. He was hunched over on the floor, not even noticing as Jeremy put himself back into his pants and fixed himself up. Stepping over Waylon as he coughed forcefully and wiped at his face. Bleary eyes watered from the forced before he could finally catch his breath. A moment later, he caught a glance of Jeremy standing by the bar, making another drink.

 

This time returning with two. His bourbon on the rocks and one that was just straight bourbon. Jeremy sipped at his own drink, watching Waylon recollect himself. Finding the red faced teary eyed look suiting of the smaller male. He imagined many more looks that would be very suitable for his little pet. He took his seat in the chair and set his drink aside and pat his knee. A silent order for Waylon to sit in his lap. It was an uncomfortable command but Waylon obeyed.

 

Taking his seat sheepishly in the man’s lap. Keeping his eyes down, averting his gaze in shame. His face flushed from his embarrassment as he wrapped his mind around the fact he just sucked off a mafia boss. Of course it was under threat of death but it was still shameful and degrading all the same. His head hung as his thoughts raced across his mind. Trying to wrap itself around just how deep into the rabbit hole he had fallen. He could no longer see the light of day at this point.

 

Jeremy didn’t seem to mind one bit as he held out the glass to Waylon. He shook his head at the offering. “I’m sorry but I don’t drink.”

 

“I’m sorry, but does this look like i care. You’ll take what I give you.” Without any warning at all, Jeremy’s hand slipped around Waylon’s throat and drew him up to his shoulder, gripping his jaw tightly to force it open as he poured the bourbon down Waylon’s throat. Waylon was too stunned to respond except to grab at the hand gripping him so painfully. By time he start to kick with his legs, trying to get leverage on the ground or the coffee table, he had already been forced to choke down the burning alcohol. Coughing and sputtering. Jeremy forced Waylon’s jaw shut and made sure he swallowed it all. Even if he choked on it.

 

Waylon was quickly taken by a sudden heaviness that spread throughout his limbs. A creeping heat followed by a tingling numbness. His head spun dizzily and it became hard to focus on anything at all. His eyes staring straight up at the ceiling as the hand gripping his jaw let go. His head lolled to the side, resting against Jeremy’s shoulder, tucked up against his neck. His body limp in the boss’s arms. One arm snaked around Waylon’s waist to keep him from slipping off his lap. Not much longer and the fringes of his vision was overcome with darkness that crept across like a shadow. Falling over his sight like a heavy blindfold draping him in waves of heat before receding into nothingness.


	5. Unwelcome Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for so long. This is the next chapter. I have been focusing on several other original works that I've been doing so it took a while for this one. Plus i had really bad writer's block and recently overcame it. This might not be updated as quickly as it was before. But I will try to do it at least once a week. Depends on how busy i am between work and life and other writings and if my Muse wants to cooperate. 
> 
> I'm glad to be back to this one though it may seem a little rushed but I don't want to bore you all with tedious dialogue that has no point to it. I'm already working on the 6th chapter so keep an eye out for that in the next week or so. Thank you all for reading and be sure to check out my other two Outlast fanifctions. 
> 
> The Lost Groom  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10803939 
> 
>  
> 
> Love is Patient, Love is Blind  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11028906

Waylon was awoken abruptly by the blaring sound of his phone alarm blasting next to his head. He blinked his bleary eyes and groaned, rolling over and tucking the pillow over his face to ignore it. Seeking for another five minutes of peace and sleep. His body was sluggish and weary still from a long night…

 

Suddenly Waylon jolted upright in the bed, blue eyes wide as his head whipped around in different directions, fearful that he’d find Blaire looming over him or lurking on the fringes of the room, watching him. Instead he found himself alone and in his own apartment. The blankets pulled over his form and he was in the same white t-shirt as the day before as well as his boxers. He spotted in the corner of his eye, his jacket, the dark slacks and his blue button up neatly folded and placed on his desk chair. His shoes were even lined up neatly beneath the chair. His wallet, phone and house keys deposited on the nightstand as if he himself had placed them there. But he remembered nothing of coming home. In fact, the last thing he remembered was Blaire forcing a glass of bourbon down his throat and passing out.

 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the alarm on his phone went off for a second time. Causing him to reach over and shut it off, delivering his apartment back into silence. Normally he found it comforting, getting away from the busy sounds of the streets and the city and people but now it was eerie. He missed waking up to the sound of Eddie in the kitchen cooking or the familiar whirring of the sewing machine going downstairs as Eddie tended to the shop and officialized final alterations for eager young blushing brides.

 

With a groan of discontent, he started the day with a hot shower and a cup of coffee. He didn’t bother making himself breakfast, his appetite had fled him when he was reminded of how the night went and the fact Blaire had taken him home and tucked him into bed with a sickening amount of care and caution. With that plaguing his thoughts, he hurried up, got dressed and grabbed his things before rushing out the door as he slung his laptop bag over his shoulder. He carried a travel mug and drank the hot brew as he made his way down the streets. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t haunted by the sound of that dying engine. A glance around at the surrounding area as he crossed an intersection, he was pleasantly surprised to find no lunkheaded shadows lurking along the streets behind him or hiding out in shitty cars, staring at him. He didn’t even feel those beady little eyes on him when he walked through the doors of his workplace.

 

Waylon spent a majority of the day trying to figure out how he could get out of Blaire’s hold or at least how he could keep Eddie and Miles out of harm’s way. Yet every idea that came to him ended in failure or something very terrible as a consequence. By noon, Sarah had offered him to go out for lunch again but Waylon politely declined. Telling her he had far too much work to catch up on from all that time he took off. He decided it was best to keep her out of all this. For all he knew, Blaire might see her as another pawn to play to use against him even though he hardly even knew her. That wouldn’t stop Blaire from going for it if only to use against Waylon’s moral conscience.

 

Miles had called Waylon while he was on his way home from work to check in. Waylon told him that he was back at his apartment now and that everything was alright. He lied to Miles, as much as he hated it, saying he hasn’t seen anything more of the Twins or Blaire. Miles went off on a long tangent saying they were probably concocting some other schemes and decided he was going to pull a few strings with his contacts around Denver to try and get more dirt on what’s going down. Waylon wished him luck as he took the stairs up to the second floor of his apartment. Opening his door just as he hung up with Miles and froze in place when he spotted a familiar dark suit sitting on his couch. “Good evening Mr. Park.” He could hear the smug tone in Blaire’s voice. “Come in. Shut the door.”

 

Waylon swallowed thickly as he forced himself to shut his apartment door and lock it. He slid his bag off his shoulder to sit on the dining room table as he approached the living room. Blaire gestured for him to take a seat in the chair adjacent the couch and Waylon obeyed without hesitation. His entire body was tense. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he sat down and switched to his hands tightly folded together in his lap. His eyes watching Blaire as the man regarded him with cold calculating eyes. “I’m disappointed Waylon.” Those words sent a cold chill through Waylon that felt like his heart had stopped. Blaire seemed to stare him down over the tip of his nose as he spoke in an icy but highly pleased voice. “You didn’t greet me properly when you came in Waylon. You’ll have to be punished for your disrespect.”

 

Waylon was confused but then Jeremy spread his legs to allow room between him and he directed Waylon with that expectant gaze. He felt a sick twisting in the pit of his stomach as he silently pleaded for Jeremy to reconsider with desperation in his eyes. “Now Waylon.” Was the only thing Jeremy said showing his patience was growing thin quickly and he meant business. Waylon dropped to his knees, sliding off the chair and crawled the short couple paces to the spot. His fingers fumbling with the buckle of Jeremy’s highly expensive belt. His hands trembling when he finally got it off. His face was pale and that sick feeling just got worse as he went. Opening his pants and reaching into Jeremy’s boxers to free his already hard cock. Waylon had the sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t just a courtesy call. That Jeremy was planning to find any excuse to force Waylon into this position once again.

 

Just like the night before, Waylon started with licking along the length to get a feel for it. He was clumsy and started out with not enough saliva and tongue then proceeded under Blaire’s impatient and agitated guidance and ended up using far too much saliva and tongue. “For christ’s sake Waylon. You’re drooling all over the fucking place.” Blaire cursed, snatching a painful hold of Waylon’s sandy blonde hair and jerking his head back off his cock. Waylon’s mouth was agape and there was fear in his eyes as Jeremy used Waylon’s own shirt to wipe the excess saliva off of the crotch of his pants. “Looks like you didn’t learn anything from your last session. What a shame.”

 

Blaire held Waylon’s head in that same position as he used his free hand to stroke himself off to completion, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Waylon’s lack of skill. “Keep your fucking mouth open. Eyes on me.” Jeremy demanded. His breath hitched as he reached climax and spurted long sinewy white strands of semen all over Waylon’s face. A little less than half of it actually ending up in his mouth. “Hold it. Don’t swallow yet.” Blaire commanded before Waylon could do anything else. Blaire wiped his saliva covered hand on Waylon’s shirt then dug out his phone, taking a picture of the programmer’s pitiful and terrified expression, all nice and covered in his cum. He decided he would use these as a nice record of Waylon’s progress from this point on. When he had secured the photo, he tilted Waylon’s chin up as he purred in a sickly sweet tone. “Now swallow it all up like a good boy.”

 

It took everything Waylon had not to throw up as he forced the bitter seed down his throat. Blaire gave a pleased growl, running a hand through Waylon’s hair gently, letting go of his head but not permitting him to get up just yet. Instead, he stood up and adjusted his clothing to look proper once again. “I’m heading out. Remember to be a good boy Waylon. You can expect me to call sometime within the next few days.” Waylon nodded his understanding. Jeremy glanced around the room as he started heading out, stopping only to inspect Waylon’s laptop case before continuing out the door. When the door opened, Waylon spotted the Twins standing guard outside. He assumed Blaire left them there incase Waylon tried to flee which of course he knew better then to. Not when Jeremy was dangling Miles and Eddie’s welfare above his head.

  


Waylon immediately jumped to his feet and brushed his teeth then took a shower once he was left alone and was certain Blaire and the Twins were gone. He didn’t notice the shitty Mercedes this time so he figured they probably took one of Blaire’s personal vehicles. He remembered a black suburban sitting out on the road and figured it must have been the one they took. When he got out of the shower and peered out the windows of his apartment, prying the shades open to see, the vehicle was gone. He moved to the Kitchen to do his laundry which the appliances were tucked in a shutter closet at the end of the kitchen. As he left it, he glanced over at the spot by the couch and cringed at the reminder of what he was forced to do. A sickening feeling returned and he cursed as the one place he considered sacred was defiled by that man.

 

He looked at the clock, running his fingers through his damp hair with a sigh. It was just starting to get dark outside and Waylon’s thoughts lingered on the topic of Eddie. He wondered what the male was doing and if he was thinking about him. He could imagine Eddie sitting on the barstool hunched over his work desk with half a dozen fabric pins in between his lips and those nimble fingers quick to work the needles through the delicate fabric as he wove elegant fragile designs into it. Adding beading and sequins to make the brides shine even brighter.  It had only been two days since he left Eddie’s shop and already he was missing the sights and sounds of it. It was serene and beautiful. It was peaceful, his days there with Eddie.

 

Probably the last peaceful days he will ever have now that Jeremy has claimed him and made a point of showing up unannounced. He already had a feeling it was going to get worse from here on out. Everything with Jeremy Blaire gets worse. Miles even had all the proof to back that statement up. All the people whose lives Jeremy destroyed and ended. All the suffering that man and the Twins had caused. The man’s entire presence oozed misery for others.

  


Somehow Waylon managed to fall asleep in the night and ended up getting up to his phone ringing an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off. His eyes were having trouble focusing on the Caller ID as he answered it in a husky voice. The voice on the other end sounded immensely displeased but it was a voice he was relieved to hear. His employer was calling him to tell him he didn’t need to come to work for the day. Sometime in the night there was a car accident and the transformer for their block was destroyed when the car hit a power pole. The businesses on their block were all closed for the day while that was fixed and power was restored. Waylon was delighted to hear the news but didn’t voice it as he wished his employer a good day and hung up.

 

He stole a couple more hours of sleep then got up, shooting Miles a text to meet up for breakfast. Miles answered it with a couple dozen emoji’s and his words all in caps lock showing his sheer excitement of the news. Of course this was followed up by Miles sending back that while amidst his digging of information into Blaire and the Murkoff Family, he found a whole other scoop for a story and he couldn’t wait to dish out the details.

 

Waylon’s day continued to go surprisingly well. He met up with Miles who looked even worse than before but somehow still managed to have twice as much energy as the last time they talked. He ordered two deluxe breakfast platters for them as they took their seats in their same old booth. The same old waitress tended to their orders. Waylon had his usual cup of coffee and Miles was slurping down a milkshake fast enough to get brain freeze but somehow still managed not to obtain.

 

It didn’t take long before Miles began regaling Waylon in all the information he found out since Friday night. Miles explained how he got in contact with a guy who goes by the street name of Pyro. Nobody knows his real name but he had a whole bunch of intel on the Murkoff Family. Like the Family ‘Doctor’ known as Richard Trager. Trager who is actually a bonafide doctor and recognized by the state of Colorado as such. He used to have a private practice sometime ago before he was hired into the Murkoff family to tend to all of their affairs. Miles told him that these such affairs were more than just a bunch of mafia men with classic cases of the cold or chicken pox. With what he’s heard from Pyro, this doctor is the one responsible for all the mutilated bodies of prostitutes and sex slaves. He also tended to each of them and oversaw the dosages he prescribed of opiates and sex drugs that the sex slaves were given routinely. When one of the slaves became useless or were near their limits, they would be placed on a _Blacklist_ in which Trager would get a hold of them and that would be their end.

 

Waylon listened intently to Miles’ story and felt a familiar tug each time he heard the doctor’s name but he couldn’t make sense of where he heard it at. He assumed that maybe he had just seen the building that Trager worked at previous and maybe saw his name on the sign beneath it or something like that. He brushed it off and finished his meal as Miles continued talking about other things he’s been looking into. He told Waylon about the aftermath of the cultist scoop and how much money a few news companies had bid on it. He even talked about the investigation that happened involving it and how the FBI have been swarming the town since he left.

 

They lingered at the diner for about an hour, talking about anything and everything. Waylon told Miles about how work’s been going lately and how he hasn’t gotten anywhere with Lisa since their break up. “Don’t worry about it Way Way. She’s a smart girl. Watch, in a couple weeks she’ll realize how badly she fucked up and how much she needs you in her life. She’ll come crawling back to you in no time.”

 

Waylon rolled his eyes and gave a soft laugh, relaxing with the familiar conversation and Miles ever optimistic attitude. “You really think so?” He asked in a teasing tone.

 

Miles reached across the table and patted Waylon on the shoulder as he gave him a confident smile. All that was missing was a charming thumbs up and a shining star over his movie star smile and Miles would be a complete cliche’ from a film. “I know so.” Waylon chuckled as Miles withdrew his hand and moved to get up. “I also know I gotta piss like a racehorse. I’ll be right back. Don’t let the waitress take my milkshake.”

 

“Don’t worry. It’s safe with me.” Waylon laughed as he watched Miles dart off to the back hallway where the patron bathrooms were. He withdrew his cell phone and scrolled down his text messages, reading through the list of names until Lisa’s popped up on the screen. He gave a wistful sigh as he swiped through the gallery of photos. Almost all of them still consisting of Lisa. Her dark chestnut locks flowing down her back and over her shoulders. Her wide confident smile and rosy cheeks. Her enchanting green eyes. She was a medium sized petite woman with a powerful confident presence and a no nonsense attitude.

 

Watching her and Miles go at it was often comical especially when it came to heated debates which were rather often. Miles was always packing on information and Lisa was a walking book of statistics and facts. They could go on for hours and Waylon would watch them in amusement. Of course it was all in good fun. Waylon often kept count to see who was winning but when it came down to choosing, he’d tell them they both had intriguing argumental points on both sides and it was impossible for him to choose.

 

Before he knew it, Miles was rushing out of the bathroom with his phone in hand like he just got a juicy bit of gossip. He snatched up his milkshake and slurped down the last of the watery melted mixture before giving Waylon an apologetic smile. “Hey Way Way, I just got a call from one of my contacts. He wants to meet up. You mind if I take off?”

 

“Of course not. Go on. Chase the truth!” Waylon chuckled and nodded in understanding. Shooing Miles away with one hand.

 

Miles clapped a hand over his shoulder and grinned. “You’re the best dude.”

 

“Mind repeating that for the camera?” Waylon teased, holding his phone up to mimic Miles who rolled his eyes at the display of mockery. He dropped a twenty on the tabletop to pay for their food plus tip before racing off out the door. His phone pressed to his ear as he chatted away with his contact and revved up the engine of his jeep. Peeling out of the parking space and headed off down the road like a bat out of hell. Waylon took his time finishing his cup of coffee before he collected his things and got up to leave as well. He wasn’t ready to head home just yet. Dreading the thought of going back to the silent empty apartment and instead decided to drop by for a quick look at some wedding gowns.

 


	6. Afternoon Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Waylon's relationship dynamic changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I was stuck on this chapter for a week. Staring at the first three paragraphs and trying to figure out how to put the scene i envisioned onto paper without it sounding ridiculous or cliche. I hope i got it alright. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think about this chapter in the comments down below. I'd love for feedback since this is the hardest Outlast Fic or any fic I've ever written. It's also going to end up being the longest I've ever done. 
> 
> Also, heads up. Dream sequence ahead. As any of you who have read my fics in the past know, I have a thing with putting in dream sequences as forms of foreboding and layering symbolism into the story. As well as giving hints of what will come in the future. Ooohh.... That and i just love writing them SOOOO much.

Eddie’s shop wasn’t that far from the diner and neither was the pastry shop down the street which Waylon stopped by on the way, picking up a couple fresh made sweet delights as a show of appreciation for all Eddie has done. With the paper bag full of warm pastries in hand, he headed towards the shop with a bit of pep in his step. The day was nice and sunny with a slight breeze hanging on the air. It was comfortable weather to be out and about walking. It wasn’t long before the shop came into view and Waylon spotted a group of women leaving it. Each of them blushing and chattering about the beautiful gown the bride had tried on and the bridesmaid's gowns they had been fitted for. As he neared, Waylon even heard them talking about Eddie. A few of them gushing over his charm and elegance and the fact he knew how to sew. One of them even joking to go as far as to call him house husband material which made Waylon snicker.

 

He greeted the girls with a smile as they climbed into their cars and started to leave. A couple of them eying him and gossiping softly as they watched him enter the bridal shop with the bag of sweets in his grasp looking like he was on a mission. Of course Waylon didn’t stop for a moment to think about what this might look like to others. He was just bringing Eddie a treat as a way of thank you, or at least that was what he was telling himself.

 

When he entered the shop, the little bell above the door rang signalling someone had entered the building. Eddie’s voice drifted out of the back in a sing song fashion. “Just one moment.” He called as Waylon glanced around at all the gowns. Recognizing one of the gowns on display as the one Eddie had him model. He had formed the entire piece around Waylon’s mostly naked form, caressing his flesh in delicate fabric with hands that took the utmost care and professionalism with their task. The skill was obvious and Waylon was speechless seeing the gown adorning a mannequin, completed with elegant swirls and floral patterns that matched the veil.

 

A soft tune was whistled from the back as Eddie arranged the gowns the women had ordered. He tagged each with the alterations that were necessary then stepped out from the backroom, adjusting the tape measure that was hanging around his shoulders as he greeted his next patron. “Sorry about the wait. I do apologize, now what can I….Waylon?”

 

Waylon grinned when Eddie’s eyes fell on his form, standing in the middle of his shop. The larger hulking male was dumbfounded as if he didn’t expect to ever see Waylon again. “Hey Eddie. Sorry for dropping by unannounced.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he held up the bag of fresh pastries to the male which Eddie took after a moment of hesitation. “I got you a little something. It’s not much but I thought you might like them.”

 

Eddie’s features broke with a large grin when he read the name of the bakery Waylon had gotten them from on the packaging. His eyes rising up to meet Waylon’s with a fascinated warmth that swirled in those blue hues. “Thank you. Um, I was about to close up for a lunch break. Would you like to come up and have tea?” Eddie offered, gesturing with his free hand towards the stairwell outside that led to his apartment. His other hand cradled the paper bag of pastries carefully as if they were deeply treasured.

 

Waylon lowered his hand from his neck and stuffed them into his pockets a little nervously as he nodded. Giving Eddie a warm smile in return for the offer. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

 

Eddie’s smile grew wider if that were even possible as he tucked the pastries into the crook of his arm and grabbed a couple pieces of sheer fabric he was currently arranging into an elegant veil made from rose pink material and a soft satin band. Waylon stepped outside as Eddie fixed the sign to show he was closed for lunch and adjusted the time he should be back at. Giving himself half an hour which was longer than normal but Eddie had a special reason this time. Once the door was locked up, they made their way up the steps, Eddie’s feet gracefully padding up each one with a flair of energy that he hadn’t had all day. Waylon’s surprise visit had put quite a bit of bounce in his step and he was humming happily as he opened the door to his apartment and ushered Waylon inside.

 

Waylon ducked through the entryway and glanced around the room. Eddie’s work space had three other gowns hanging up on a metal rack that had been arranged near the table. It was one of the clothing racks that Eddie kept downstairs in the back room to hang his dresses on. Each was covered in plastic for protection from dust and dirt. Keeping the fabric smooth and unwrinkled.

 

“Just take a seat and relax darling. I’ll make us some tea.” Eddie directed with an almost sing song voice of sheer delight as he made his way to the kitchen. He heard the water in the sink running as a kettle was filled and placed on the stove. Then the idle clinking of plates being placed on a tray. Waylon took a seat on the couch, sitting at the far end so there was plenty of room for Eddie to sit beside him and a comfortable space would be left for them to face each other. He easily relaxed into the familiar cushioning, settling into his favorite spot with his back pushed against the corner of the arm of the couch and the back cushioning. He sank into that spot each day with one knee drawn up and folded and his laptop resting in his lap. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, drinking in the familiar feeling of the apartment, the sounds of another human being moving about. He missed that very much since Lisa left him. Being completely alone in his place was nerve wracking.

 

Waylon was a social butterfly of sorts despite being a very quiet person, he liked being in the presence of others, even if he wasn’t interacting with them directly. He enjoyed listening to the idle chatter such as when Miles goes on one of his tangents or when Lisa was busy in the kitchen baking or cleaning. She was a lot like Miles, a flurry of energy that needed an outlet. She enjoyed her time in the kitchen and often made an abundance of food just to keep moving and her mind focused. It was therapeutic. Sort of like how Miles was always on the go and running around. Never stationary for long.

 

“You look tired.” Waylon was pulled out of his thoughts by the soft tone of the larger male as he set a tray with two piping hot mugs of tea down onto the coffee table. Each resting beside a fresh pastry from the bakery. They had a sweet powder sugar dusting atop a warm flaky puff. Almost like a donut but closer to a crescant in a way. “Have you been sleeping okay?” Eddie’s brows furrowed into a look of concern as he sat down adjacent of Waylon on the couch, facing the male. But unlike Waylon, he remained away from the sides of the couch and sat upright, cradling his mug in hand.

 

“Yeah, just been busy catching up on all the work I missed.” Waylon lied with ease, surprisingly enough. Normally he was guilt ridden for lying to anyone of his friends or even his family but at the moment, he didn’t feel much about it. It was either lie or let Eddie get further roped into a dangerous situation that could end worse than it has to be. His weary blue eyes turned to Eddie, giving him a reassuring smile as he sat forward enough to retrieve his own mug and sipped at the warm liquid pooling down his throat. “Luckily enough, the power was out at the company today so I got an unofficial day off.”

 

“Oh? It was well deserved. You appear to be enjoying the free day.” Eddie asked softly, reaching down to take a piece of his pastry and ripping a smaller piece off of it. They weren’t very big but Eddie was mindful not to get any of the powdered sugar onto his uniform. He bit at the piece and swallowed it down with a few sips of tea. The sweetness of the pastry with the warm herbal flavoring of the tea was a perfect combination on a long busy day. Helping the rest of him relax, feeling the ball of stress that had his shoulders tight slowly unwind with the rest of him.

 

He breathed a soft sigh as he watched Waylon. The dark bags under the male’s eyes had gotten worse and worry lines were forming. He looked more pale than normal and seemed to be exhausted. He was worried about the fact Waylon was wandering about so openly like this with Blaire nipping right at his heels. Unless something had happened. Something that changed the situation entirely. The only thoughts to cross Eddie’s mind were the kind that made him want to strangle the Murkoff head even more.

 

He calmed himself as he watched Waylon pick up his own pastry and take a large bite right out of the center. The white powder covering the corner of his upper lip. A fond smile pulled at the corners of Eddie’s own lips as he was reminded of Waylon sitting at the dining room table with him and having breakfast early in the mornings. His heart made small flips in his chest as his mind wandered over to the fact that on his day off, Waylon chose to spend it with Eddie. Even more so, he came bearing such sweet gifts.

 

“I saw the wedding dress in the display window earlier. That’s the same one you had me wear, isn’t it?” Waylon asked after swallowing the second bite of his pastry. Eddie’s eyes flickered up from Waylon’s mouth as he spoke to his eyes, meeting his inquiring gaze and nodding. Taking another piece of his own pastry and finishing it before answering.

 

“It is. Do you like it?”

 

Waylon paused in the process of sipping at his tea. “I do. It’s really beautiful. You do amazing work.”

 

Eddie’s lips pulled up into a wide grin as he set his near empty mug onto the coffee table. Folding his hands into his lap and swirling his thumbs around each other. He seemed to blush lightly at the compliment but Waylon couldn’t tell right away. Eddie always brushed those sweet words off as a courtesy from the women who entered his shop but hearing it from Waylon made so much more of a difference. Especially since Eddie made that dress _with_ Waylon specifically _for_ Waylon. Just to see him wear it in Eddie’s presence. Like a precious secret between the two of them. That dress was special to Eddie and it was his pride and joy. Hearing Waylon’s approval of the design meant the world to him and had his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He felt like a school boy standing in front of his crush for the first time. Overcome with a nervousness he had never felt before as his eyes flickered back up to Waylon’s lips. To the powder resting there, as if it was just begging for a taste.

 

Waylon seemed to be oblivious to the larger male’s predicament. Sipping down the last of his tea and leaning forward from his spot and closer to Eddie to set the empty mug back on the tray. Eddie took the opportunity of having the smaller male within arm’s reach. His hand crossed in front of Waylon, caressing his right cheek every so gently and turning his head to face him. “Eddie-” Waylon barely managed to get the name out of his mouth when Eddie’s lips crashed against his. His blue eyes shifted from narrowed confusion to widened surprise as the dressmaker held him there, stroking his cheek with his thumb, their lips slotting together as if they were made for this one moment. Waylon’s heart skipped several beats in the process and he could hear it hammering away while his thoughts raced to make sense of what was happening.

 

Before he knew it, Eddie had pulled away, his own blue orbs spread wide as if just realizing what he had done. Waylon’s dazed expression settled over his flushing features as everything started to fall into place. The answers were far from his grasp but he knew enough to know they had just kissed and Eddie, Eddie was already on his feet, staring down at Waylon with horror. Waylon couldn’t make sense of rather it was at his reaction or the fact of what had just transpired. His mind was still gaping at the fact he felt the heat of Eddie’s lips against his and the feeling of calloused fingertips across his cheek, now just phantom sensations craving for revival.

 

Waylon watched as the larger male quickly made for the door, mumbling in a hurry. “I’m sorry- I...I have to get back to the shop.” He paused at the door, his fingers touching the handle for just a split second of hesitation as if waiting for something more to be said. Maybe even waiting for outrage on Waylon’s end but when it didn’t come, he continued to open the door and shut it behind himself. Taking the steps two at a time until he was on the ground and slipping back underneath the stairs and out of sight. Eddie’s fingertips brushing over his lips, still able to taste the sweetness of the blonde male’s on his tongue. The softness of them against his own which felt rough in comparison. He could have sworn he felt Waylon’s breathing escalate but then again, it may have been out of fear. Yet Waylon didn’t shove him away like Eddie had anticipated but maybe it was because he was caught off guard….or maybe…

 

Eddie disbanded those thoughts with the shake of his head. Running his fingers through his disheveled black locks to put them back in place, he adjusted his vest with a weary sigh. He gave the steps one last look before slipping around the corner of the building and heading to the front door. Just as he unlocked it and changed the sign to open, a car was pulling in for an afternoon fitting appointment, of course they were early but they were the perfect excuse for Eddie to bury himself in his work and try not to think of how much Waylon might despise him. Or the fact he may never see him again now.

  
  
  


Aside from the sudden jarring upset at Eddie’s place, Waylon’s week continued on as normal. He had left Eddie’s apartment after several minutes of contemplation but never getting anywhere with it. He had hoped Eddie would come back but when he heard the bell ring downstairs signalling a customer had entered, he decided it was time to head home. Staying there the rest of the night and going over that strange incident over and over again in his head. After a few hours of that, his mind started to twist it and exaggerate details until Waylon ended up face down in his bed, red faced and pulling the pillow over himself in a pitiful attempt to hide or smother the thoughts out of his mind.

 

Work continued as normal that next morning. The power had been restored but Waylon was busy fixing server errors and rebooting systems after the outage caused a corruption of a couple different computers. Some of them ended up fried or completely reset to default systems. It was all around frustrating because many of the staff have a tendency not to fully shut down their computers before going home which leads to these sorts of problems. It was simultaneously a welcome relief because it was frustrating enough to devour all of his attention, leaving little else for him to wander off and think about the events of the night before at Eddie’s place.

  
  
  
**...............................................................**  
  


 

 

_Waylon was all sprawled out across the couch in Eddie’s apartment. The shades drawn to allow the afternoon sun to bathe the room in golden light. The warmth of those rays settling onto his skin and drawing him into a comfortable doze. His laptop resting on the table in sleep mode and his phone switched to silent. Eddie had been in and out of the apartment all morning working on alterations on the new line up of gowns. He had grown used to the subtle chime of the bell on the door as Eddie as well as patrons passed in and out, never lingering long._

 

_He had heard Eddie come rushing up the steps in a hurry muttering about a veil he had forgotten to grab from his workspace in the living room, stopping just long enough to brush a few wayward strands of blonde locks out of Waylon’s peacefully sleeping face before rushing off again. About an hour later, Waylon had been pulled from his sleep, feeling fingers running through those sandy blonde strands again. A smile tugged at his lips from the familiar touch through his hair, so gentle and careful with its motions. A loving warmth that spread through his body, drawing a soft pleasant groan as his body shifted and stretched._

 

_His blue eyes opening slowly to gaze up at the figure above him. The sunlight made it hard to focus at first, the glaring brightness causing him to barely make out the lines of a silhouette. He tilted his head to the side as the gentle touched ceased its actions, resting with fingers woven through his locks until his sleepy gaze could make it out. The blue orbs widened as the fingers curled tightly into his hair and his gaze met a pair of sharp cold brown eyes._

 

_“Sleep well Mister Park?” Those words sent a cold chill through Waylon’s whole body.. His thoughts started to race frantically as he struggled to pull away from Jeremy’s grasp. Turning on the sofa to an all fours position which had Jeremy hauling him forward, over the arm of the couch and keeping him right there. Head craned up at an awkward painful angle. Jeremy clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. “That wasn’t very nice Waylon. You didn’t answer my question and you didn’t greet your master properly It would seem I still need to teach you manners.”_

 

_Jeremy snapped his fingers and the twins barged into the room, throwing the door wide open, hard enough to bang against the back wall. Waylon winced and turned his gaze to the form they were dragging behind them. The familiar mass they had by the arms was thrown to the living room floor right out in the open where Waylon could get a nice long look. Jeremy dragged Waylon by the hair off of the couch and pushed him forward to stumble to his knees right next to the large motionless form. Blood seeped out of it and covered the dusty wooden floor boards, filling the gaps in between like a sick maze of crimson lines racing outwards. Jeremy kicked the side of Eddie’s body to force him to roll over onto his back. His chest had multiple stab wounds in the upper torso and his abdomen was sliced wide open. His innards were a tangled mess, falling out and a single hand moved shakily to the place, a weak attempt to push them back inside the gaping wound._

 

_Eddie had blood pooling out of his mouth, a wheezing noise filled his chest cavity and blood trickled from his nose. The side of his face was black and blue from a brutal beating and his usually gloved hands were bare and covered in defensive wounds. His blue eyes were hazy and his skin was pale, showing he was suffering from blood loss. It was obvious that Eddie was in immense pain as his hands trembled, trying to push his intestines back inside. He didn’t even notice Waylon at his side. He was losing consciousness quickly, struggling to fight back the darkening edges of his vision. Waylon reached out for Eddie’s hand, touching the normally warm fingers which were now cold and struggling to function properly. Eddie was going into shock from his injuries and Waylon had no idea what to do. Tears blurred his vision as he turned his gaze frantically from Jeremy back to Eddie. “He n-needs a hospital...he’s...he’s going to die. Yo- you have to help him.” He squeezed Eddie’s hand tightly, urging the male to do the same back but his fingers loosened and started to slip from his grasp. “Eddie!” He twisted in his place to face Jeremy as he screamed. “Help him!”_

 

_“No.” Was all Jeremy responded with. His brown eyes were fixed on the smaller blonde male. His gaze was cold and indifferent. It was as if Eddie wasn’t even in the room at the moment and Waylon was some pest on the streets trying to ask for money._

 

_“Wh-what?” Waylon was breathless, tears falling down his cheeks as Eddie’s hand slipped from his grasp and his eyes became glossy. Lifeless. His chest ceased to rise and the last remnants of oxygen slipped out of his lungs. A moment later the bleeding stopped with his heart._

 

_“This is the consequence for your insolence. Your actions have repercussions Waylon. It’s best that you think them through very carefully.” Those words pierced right through Waylon’s chest, freezing him in place as Jeremy turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment with the Twins in tow behind him. Leaving Waylon sitting in a pool of blood and Eddie’s lifeless corpse lying before him. The door to the apartment slowly swinging shut with a ghostly click._

 

  


 

 

Waylon woke up in a cold sweat, his body tangled up in the bedding and sheets. His breathing came in quick gasping huffs as if he had just finished running a marathon. His chest hurt just as much with his racing heart. His entire body was trembling and it took him several long minutes to realize he was in his own apartment. In his own bed. Far away from Eddie and Jeremy Blaire. At the moment all he wanted to do was call Eddie to make sure he was alright and before he could think anymore of it or what he would say, he had already dialed Eddie’s number. The gruff voice of the sleepy male answered, a husky ‘hello’. He heard Eddie clearing his throat as he awaited an answer but Waylon had frozen in place. He didn’t know what to say and without a second more, he ended the call with a click. The time greeting him on the main screen of his phone. _5:56 am._

 

With a heavy sigh, waylon sat his phone aside and started preparing for the work day. Just one more day and he had an entire weekend to himself. He was already considering sharing it with Miles if he hasn’t run off on a new escapade already.  The morning seemed fruitless aside from a few tweaks on the computer system’s previous updates from the day before. He did some work on the inner workings of the company’s website. Fixing several glitches and adding a few new additions before calling it a day. As he was packing up his laptop and giving his co-workers a curt farewell for the weekend, a tune filled the air from his phone. The chime signalled that he had received a message from somebody that wasn’t his usual contact list. At first he wondered if it was Eddie but as he opened the message, the first thing he saw were three words that made his chest tight and the color drain out of his features.

 

**_From Unknown Number_ **

_“Come to Master.”_

  


Waylon looked up from his phone, gazing outside the glass doorway to spot a familiar pair of lunkheaded lackeys. He swallowed hard, turning off his cell phone as he started a slow unsettling gait towards the doorway. The Twins weren’t in the piece of shit Mercedes today. No, today was the large black SUV Waylon had spotted a few nights prior during Blaire’s unannounced visit to his apartment.  The bald headed Twin already had the backseat door open, gesturing for him to climb inside. Waylon did so but it felt as if he was crawling into his own grave. A one way ticket to whatever hell Blaire was concocting this time.


	7. Good Dogs Go To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from worse to well, even more worse for Waylon but when he thinks he's already hit bottom, he breaks through and plummets even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one was sort of really fun and also made me feel extremely guilty for writing. 
> 
> The sort of kinks featured in this one are strange but count as medical kink in a way. I asked a couple different people there opinions on how Waylon's final punishment should go and they all choose this option so don't be mad at me. They choose the craziest kinkiest option possible that is also the messiest and most painful when done for too long. I had to do a whole crap ton of research on this one and brush up on some older knowledge to double check it's accuracy as far as the human body and responses go. So, if this sounds crazy, inaccurate or completely ridiculous, it is medically proven to be a hundred percent plausible and accurate. I make sure all of my kink or sex involved scenes/scenarios are completely accurate, realistic and possible. (With proper training, equipment as well as consent.)

Of all the crazy or outrageous situations he could get into in this maddening life of his, Waylon never imagined this would be one of them. To his shame and absolute horror. He found himself bent over Jeremy Blaire’s lap in one of his condo’s. His body strewn across the couch with two belt like straps around his arms which were bound behind his back. He was naked, his clothes quickly removed from him upon entry and his bag discarded with the heap by the door. A special blindfold was placed over his eyes, his blond locks a disheveled wayward mess hanging down at odd angles from his even odder body position and a leather collar was fitted special around his neck. A tag hanging from it read  _“Pet.”_

His knees were planted firmly on the cushion and Blaire’s hand trailed down his bare spine teasingly, eliciting a shiver from the smaller blonde male. His palm pressed firmly against one of his bare cheeks which were already blushing a light pink from Jeremy swatting it a few times in a show of dominance and to further inflame Waylon’s face from embarrassment. Waylon listened carefully to each movement before he heard a soft mechanical click of a lid or cap of some kind. The neutral scent of a factory produced product hit his nose, the smell of plastic then a sweet scent followed. He jerked suddenly as something cold and wet pressed against his entrance, smearing the gel or cream like substance around.

 

Blaire tutted sharply. “Don’t move pet. This is the only mercy I’m going to give you so don’t screw it up.” Blaire hissed as he suddenly pressed his middle finger into Waylon’s still very tight hole. It was true, the lubricant was the  _only_ mercy Jeremy Blaire was going to give his pet. Everything else had been met with sharp commanding tones and cold eyes that seemed to devour Waylon whole.

 

Waylon groaned, biting his lip as the finger thrusted in and out of his hole cruelly with no apparent aim in mind. The finger twisted and curled, hitting a spot Waylon didn’t even realize he had. A moan broke from trembling lips as he squirmed in place. He tried to choke back another sound, closing his mouth and gritting his teeth. “Did I say you could stop pet?” Jeremy growled into his ear, he could feel the mafia boss’s breath ghost across his bare neck, causing goosebumps to spread across his already cold skin. The finger withdrew, allowing Waylon a moment’s bliss before he felt a light shift on the couch before feeling something cold press against his lips. “Open.” The voice was sharp and demanding and Waylon was in too much of a vulnerable state to even think of disobeying. He parted his lips only to have them forced open further to the point his jaw was twinging in pain as the cold circular piece was forced into place. Leather straps formed behind his head and locked in place beneath the straps used for the blindfold. His tongue pressed against the ring that now kept his lips parted and found the center was empty.

 

The finger returned to it’s place at his entrance and plunged back inside, hitting that special spot and causing shocks of pleasure to rip through him and escape as breathy awkward moans. “My pet sounds like such a slut already. All I’ve done is touch your ass a little bit.” The words were mocking, a sneer of superiority as he degraded Waylon further. Pressing the syllables on the word ‘pet’ as if proving the massive crevice of status between them. Jeremy was  _way_ up on top and Waylon was a boot licking animal that should deem himself lucky the older male even looked his way. After a moment, the finger pulled out, there was another whiff of the sweet scent before two fingers plunged in with wanton abandoned at the same time.

 

A startled cry leap from Waylon as he continued to squirm, his legs spread a little further apart to try and adjust to these probing digits assaulting his sensitive insides. The fingers spread inside him and opened him up, stretching the tight ring of virgin muscle before pulling back out. Waylon smelled the aroma once more and braced for three fingers this time but instead something small and cold, coated in the sweetly scented lubricate pushed against his redden hole. It slipped in with ease at the slighted push then he felt Blaire’s index finger slip inside him as well. The small little ovular object had a small wire attached and was pressed firmly against that sweet spot. After a moment, Blaire removed his finger from Waylon’s insides and shifted a few things around as if moving them out of the way. The sound of a belt clinking then the tell tale growl of a zipper before Waylon soon felt hot thick flesh press against his lips. Blaire rubbed the tip over Waylon’s cheek in a teasing display to let the computer tech know just what was coming.

 

Even so, it wasn’t enough of a warning as it pushed through the ring and filled the space inside his mouth with a disgusting throbbing heat. It wasn’t that Blaire tasted disgusting, as strange as that was. He tasted like soap, very expensive body wash by the lingering scent on his skin showing the crime boss had showered in anticipation for Waylon’s arrival. Waylon appreciated that strangely enough.

 

Blaire reached a hand up to stroke a hand through Waylon’s hair in a moment of silent pause. Waylon wondered if Blaire was waiting for him to start moving or just giving him a moment to adjust. That thought was shoved out the window when Blaire’s fingers curled tightly in Waylon’s hair as he growled. “Well pet? Get to work.” The fingers were painfully tight, twisting in his hair so badly Waylon could feel the block strands breaking from his scalp sending hundreds of sharp pinpricks in the back of his head. They finally released, permitting him to begin moving, bobbing his head up and down along his master’s length. His nostrils flared as he breathed in heavy huffs, drool dribbling out of his mouth around the ring piece which drew a curse from Blaire. “You’re like a fucking dog Park.” The male started to wipe off the small droplets of spit but then gave up on even trying.

 

“This is going to be a long weekend for you pet. It’s just going to be you and me.” Waylon stilled at those words as Jeremy crooned in his ear. “Just think, by Monday morning, you’ll be able to suck a cock like a good little bitch.” The fingers buried in his hair again as a warning for stopping then slammed Waylon’s head down further, forcing his length deeper down Waylon’s throat. Waylon started to choke and struggle against the restraints as Jeremy refused to let up. “Maybe by the you’ll quit fucking drooling all over the place.” Waylon’s chest rose and fell in quick panicked huffs as his throat constricted and closed around Jeremy’s hard member.

 

The crime boss groaned pleasantly, holding Waylon there for another few seconds before releasing his hold. The bitter pearls of precum beaded out of Jeremy’s slit and smeared across his tongue, making Waylon shudder in revulsion as he drew back to catch his breath. Rising to the tip and making like he was focusing on the head, licking and lapping at the slit and polishing around it but mostly it was just to catch his breath. His eyes prickled with tears of frustration and shame, forming at the corners of his eyes behind the blindfold.

 

There was another shift as Blaire moved and a soft clicking sound came a little ways away. He almost didn’t hear it over his own frantic breathing but the low hum caught his attention. His startled mind caught up to the rest of his body and realized something was vibrating inside his ass. His eyes widened behind the blindfold from the pleasure that formed like a burning heat inside his groin. A moan rose in his throat but he swallowed it down, muffling it by taking more of Blaire inside of him. The sounds didn’t stop, only increasing as Jeremy turned the dial up and purred at the vibrations Waylon’s throat caused around him. A hand roamed over Waylon’s back ass if Blaire was petting a massive lap dog and not a naked man bound in his lap. He gave a few strokes of praise before delivering a hard slap to Waylon’s bare rear. The small egg vibrator device was jostled around inside him, pulling more throaty noises out of him.

 

Waylon couldn’t stop himself, feeling the heavy weight of his own erection hanging between his legs, the tip of his head rubbing against the couch as his hips moved slowly, building friction in rhythm with his head movements. He felt the hand slide over his rear and deliver another hard swat. His other hand gripped the back of Waylon’s hair in warning when Waylon started to stumble in movements. With the ring gag, Blaire didn’t have to worry about Waylon using teeth on him so there was no threat there. No, the new threat was when Blaire’s hand moved between Waylon’s legs and fondled his sack. Waylon rutted his hips forward into the touch with desperation but those actions were met with an incredibly painful squeeze encasing his sack. He whimpered around Blaire and held completely still. “If you cum on me or the furniture, I will cut your balls off Park.”

 

Waylon squeezed his eyes shut, the tears building up there finally escaping his eyes and sliding past the edges of the blindfold. Racing streaks down his face and dripping onto Blaire’s crotch. One of the droplets tickled his nose as it rolled off the tip. He pinched his legs together, trying to hold himself back but it only succeeded in tightening around the vibrator inside him. He whimpered, working faster to try to bring Blaire to his ends, hoping if he does, the man will let him cum or at least go to the bathroom.

 

Blaire on the other hand had no intention of letting Waylon relieve himself. At least not in the traditional sense. Blaire let Waylon keep it up for another minute or so before he felt ready. He wanted to drive a point to Waylon since they will be spending the couple days together. He buried his fingers into the computer tech’s hair and pulled his head back hard, holding onto it as he gave Waylon’s hip a rough push. Causing his legs to slide off the side of the couch and onto the floor, causing Waylon to wince. Blaire took in the red faces tear streaked expression with mouth wide and those blue eyes covered. He could just imagine the absolute lustful desperation in the younger male’s eyes as he stroked himself off to completion. His seed spurting out onto Waylon’s face, most of it landing in his mouth this time.

 

“Hold it pet. Tongue out, chin up.” The crime boss commanded sharply. Reaching for his phone to catalog this little image of beauty. Adding it to the steadily growing collection so far. He was anticipating that collection hitting a growth spurt over the weekend. The camera shuddered with a flash as he took a full body picture of his pet before giving the final command. “Swallow it all.” The words came with the release of the gag.

 

Waylon felt the bitter hot seed pool over his tongue as he worked it down his bruised and swollen throat, closing his equally as bruised and swollen lips. They stuck together with the sticky white substance as he cleaned it off of his face. Luckily enough most of it had gotten near his mouth so he could reach it. He whined as the vibrator continued inside him, the new position didn’t make the sensations any easier to receive and actually made it much harder to hold onto to. His own manhood ached from the prolonged denial for release. He bit his bottom lip, feeling the sick sensation coiling inside his stomach as Blaire reached out and cupped Waylon’s chin gently. “You want to cum pet.” It was more of a statement then a question but Waylon nodded all the same.

 

“Y-yes master.” He stumbled with the words from his hoarse throat.

 

Blaire’s lips curled up into a nasty devilish smile. “Okay then. You’ll get the release you desire, just stay right there.” Those words held a sickly irony in them that had Waylon dreading his agreement already.

 

Blaire got up from his seat on the couch, fixing his belt and zipper before leaving Waylon in the same spot as he walked away. There was silence then muffled one-sided conversation that told Waylon Blaire was on the phone with somebody. He returned a moment later and sat down on the couch with a plop, resting back with legs crossed at the knee. His foot bobbed slowly, the very tip of his shoes rubbing up and down along the underside of Waylon’s length in tortuously slow movements. It felt like a long time had passed which might be incorrect considering Waylon’s desperation to cum; before the ding of the elevator sounded in the silence. Footsteps echoed across the tile floor before an unfamiliar voice spoke up. “What’s up buddy?” The voice sounded a little nasally and reminded Waylon of the kind that voiced the rat Templeton in Charlotte’s Web when he was a kid.

 

“Rick.” Jeremy greeted with all the warmth of a corpse. There was a clinking sound like ice in a glass that Waylon assumed meant the male was drinking. Probably made himself a scotch on the rocks at the bar during his brief phone call. “Did you bring what I asked?”

 

“You betcha. This the pet?” Rick asked, the name tugging at something in Waylon’s memory but he couldn’t quite remember. The vibrations inside him made it too hard to think straight. He shivered in his kneeling position on the floor as he felt something click on his collar then tugged on the D ring. “Come on. Let the doctor take a look atcha.” Rick spoke, forcing Waylon to shuffle across the floor on his knees away from the narrow space between the couch and the expensive glass table his back had been to. He stumbled when his mind caught onto those spoken words, his mind snatching at the name and hearing Miles talking in the back of his head. His voice echoing old conversations about the Murkoff Family’s private physician and how many of the sex slaves found dead suffered trauma found during illegal medical procedures. He froze in place, pulling back against the chain and shaking his head fervently. He visibly paled, his lips quivering in a silent plea. “What? Not a fan of doctors?” Rick gave a wistful sigh. “Ain’t that a shame.”

 

There was a sharp tug on the chain that jolted him forward suddenly, causing him to fall onto his chest and the side of his face. Pain blossomed in his neck and spread across his face, fighting the cold chill of tile against his bare skin. He felt a shoe stand against his back, putting a fraction of their body weight just below where his arms were strapped into place to keep his hips pinned down. His hard member shrank away from the chilled floor and flagged a little but the ache remained, throbbing and painfully full. A foot pushed him over onto his side, leaving him there in an almost fetal position. His upper leg was adjusted to extend a little bit as the doctor touched his manhood. Cold latex gliding over damp skin, the lingering remnants of the earlier lubrication. “Hm, so what’s the desired procedure for this one?”

 

There came a cool indifferent tone. “He wants to cum.” Jeremy said flatly before taking another sip of his drink. Waylon squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold, silently praying for help. Those images Miles showed him of the dead women and men, tortured and ripped open like frogs at a middle school science fair dissection. His tears continued to fall through the blindfold. A cold scoff from Jeremy as he stood up and walked around the table. Waylon thought he would stop by his side or simply stop the doctor but instead he continued on to the other room. The clinking of liquor bottles and expensive crystal or glass decanters sounded as Jeremy rifled through his collection of booze, possibly looking for something with more kick.

 

“Hm, that’s cold buddy.” Rick mumbled before opening up the suitcase beside him, exposing the myriad of medical supplies within. He pulled out a smooth pre-lubricated catheter that was carefully wrapped to remain sterile until use. The doctor peeled back the plastic and gently rubbed a little bit of extra lubricant that slid down Waylon’s thigh over the slit of his member. Then the cold plastic tube pressed against it. “Hold still.” Was the only warning before it was slid in. Waylon’s breath hitched as a burning pain formed inside his urethra from something going in the wrong direction.

 

He whimpered as the tube was carefully maneuvered past the base and through his urethra into his ejaculatory duct. With being stimulated like this, there was no chance of missing it since all other routes were closed off. Waylon could feel it hit that special area and the other side of his prostate that had his body jerking suddenly as both sides of it was being targeted simultaneously. “Sorry about that pal.” Rick muttered with a light chuckle of amusement. A special black plastic ball pump like device was attached then another tube was attached to the open end of that device. Creating an arching canal of tubes that was then inserted into Waylon’s virgin hole. The end of the second tube had a hollow plug like attachment that worked like a nozzle only it stopped anything from leaking out. This created a tight seal, even with the vibrator still inside and the cord hanging out. It was small enough not to be a problem.

 

Waylon whimpered again, squirming beneath the doctor’s hands and groaning as the thick plug pushed past his abused hole. A small pool of tears started to form beneath his head, the blindfold was damp and mostly soaked through and his face had tear tracks criss crossing all over it. A hand touched through his hair and he flinched away from it, holding completely still, wary and terrified of this man’s touch. Terrified of them both. He felt the tubes be jostled around a bit as the dial was cranked up on the egg device. The vibrations increased substantially, now at high power before the hand pump was squeezed a couple times.

 

Waylon cried out and writhed on the floor as the combination of the vibration against his prostate and the suction like effect inside him hit at just the right time, driving him into a powerful intense orgasm that had his body trembling. The tube filled with white as his pent up seed filled it, pulled through the narrow passage of the catheter to pool back inside his ass. Waylon’s eyes widened as he gasped, feeling the heat of his own seed pooling over his prostate and dribbling inside him. The doctor pulled him over onto his knees by his bicep and left him kneeling, ass in the air and face to the floor, His head twisted to the side at a painfully awkward angle. His legs were rearranged and spread apart by an extendable bar that attached to his ankles.

 

He shivered, feeling the conflicting sensations of hot inside his ass and cold outside where his body met the icy tile flooring. He panted softly, the vibrations becoming wet and oddly satisfying against his sweet spot. “Welp, looks like my job here is done for now.” The doctor stood up and dusted his hands. Jeremy’s footsteps rejoined them in the living room as the doctor peeled off his gloves with a sickening snap.

 

“Oooh, martini. Thanks Jer.” Rick sipped at his offered drink while Jeremy inspected his pets new position. It was a rather satisfying sight from this angle. The waterworks were a nice touch between all the moaning that came and went. Waylon’s mouth gaped as he panted heavily between orgasms and being filled up. “I think a couple hours like that aughta solve your problems. I’ll be back later to check on him.”

 

There was a hum of approval and the sound of a hand patting someone on the shoulder, probably the doctor doing so as he closed his bag and left. The ding of the elevator signalling the departure. Silence followed before the rustling of the couch came, Jeremy returned to his previous comfortable position and watched his new pet with calculated amusement.

 

 

- **\-------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

 

Two and a half miserable hours later, Waylon was painfully full, painfully flaccid and numb in places he didn’t think possible. Pleasure had quickly become unbearable pain from far too many orgasms and ejaculations. At one point he started spitting blanks which he was both thankful for and dreading as each orgasm became full body dry heaves of pleasure. His stomach was churning up in sickly displeasure, he cramped in places that made him feel like he was dying inside. His belly was a little bloated at the base, closer to his abdomen from the pooling of seed and he could no longer feel the vibrations from the toy. He could have sworn his insides were swelled up from over stimulation. Everything hurt, inside and out.

 

His body was so cold, he couldn’t feel his knees, his legs fell asleep, his shoulders burned badly from their prolonged position behind his back, his face and jaw were sore and his cheek had formed a bruise from being stuck to the floor like that. His neck hurt to move, feeling like the joints were grinding at the slightest motion. Jeremy walked in and out of the room every now and then, making phone calls and working on a computer which had been set on the glass table several times while he got up to answer calls. He’s occasionally come over and nudge Waylon with his foot to see if he passed out yet or to press the hard toe of his expensive _Salvatore Ferragamo_ designer shoes against his bulging abdomen. Drawing a cry from Waylon’s lips. If the blindfold was damp before, it was completely soaked now. After an hour, Waylon broke down into pleading sobs which only gained him a hard slap across the face and a cold sharp “ _Silence pet!”_ hissed at him by his master.

 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Waylon felt his heart sink down into his stomach when he heard the ding of the elevator and the weaselly voice of the doctor as he greeted Jeremy. He heard the approaching footsteps and felt his arms be grabbed where they’re bound together, twisting the joints in his shoulders further and delivering even more pain as he was partly dragged across the floor. “Hoo, heavier than ya look. I'd lift ya but I don’t want to pop the cork just yet." Most of his body was up off the ground aside from his legs which dragged uselessly behind him with the bar. It wasn’t very far before he was deposited somewhere else. The floor had a solid smooth surface this time. As he was allowed to lie back onto his side, he felt a drain near his leg and heard the doctor rustling through his bag once more. Those horrid images rushed to the forefront of Waylon’s mind suddenly as another onslaught of sobbing began. Incoherent begging for his life.

 

“Hey hey hey, what’s with all this?” Rick asked, looking completely confused at the reaction of the blonde male. Normally he would receive this sort of outburst under far different circumstances. But right now he was trying to help Waylon out. “Hang in there buddy. Just a little longer.”

 

Another pair of footsteps entered the room and the doctor shuffled away, working on getting his tools out and prepared. Jeremy crouched down in front of Waylon, kneeling in his own massive granite shower with a rainstorm spray system that rained from different angles depending on the person’s desires. All of it was push button activated by a fancy waterproof touch screen built into the wall. It had yet to be turned on but he would have to set it up for Rick to use in a moment. For now, his focus was solely on Waylon. He reached out and cupped the pet’s chin, tilting it up as Jeremy spoke in a sharp tone that demanded all of the blonde’s attention. “Have you learned your lesson yet pet?” Jeremy asked, leaving Waylon confused and frozen in place with fear of this man. His master. “Your  _only_ reward will be serving me. You do not come and you do not receive pleasure for yourself. Your pleasure is and will always be serving your master.” Those words made Waylon’s heart sink in his chest and that sickening feeling from earlier worsened. “If you come again, this will be your punishment and each time it will be longer. Am I understood?”

 

Waylon nodded his head weakly. This gained him a hard slap across the face. “ _Am I understood, Pet?”_

“Y-yes M-master..” Waylon rasped, his face was so cold he couldn’t even feel the residual sting of the slap but the force along had his neck crying out with pain, sending shocks down his back and over his shoulders.

 

“Good.” The hand released Waylon and there came soft beeping sounds as the shower was set up for a certain spray type. Rick and Jeremy muttered back and forth over what button to push when ready and how to shut it off. Footsteps continued out the door, leaving Waylon with the doctor who gave a soft chuckle at his companion’s exit.

 

“You know, he’s a bit too stuffy with this job. Takes all the fun out of it.” The words were lighthearted and almost playful which sounded wrong to Waylon’s terrified mind. “Where were we...ah! I remember now.” The doctor reached out and removed the spreader bar from Waylon’s legs then the belts from his arms. “You’ll want to be on all fours for this part buddy.” It was easier said than done. Waylon’s limbs didn’t want to move. His joints were swollen and inflamed. Heat rising with painful burning amidst the canvas of endless cold flesh. “Hold still.” He was warned as the doctor rolled him onto his side and removed the catheter from his slit but placed his thumb over the end, keeping the vacuum seal effect so nothing spills out yet. He turned off the vibrations of the egg device next, leaving the egg inside that had yet to be removed, but first and foremost was the tubing. “Come on. Up. Up. Up. Up.” He gently shook Waylon to get a response from him and urge him onto all fours.

 

It took a couple minutes but he finally managed, his limbs trembling weakly, his entire body shaking like a leaf in a storm. Exhausted and bruised all over and the worst was yet to come. With a gentle touch on his lower back, it was the only warning the doctor gave him before he pulled the other end of the tube out. Waylon whimpered as the seed flooded out of his red abused entrance. It was swollen and even the feeling of the seed dripping out of it hurt. The doctor pressed a hand over his abdomen and rubbed in counterclockwise circles to push the fluids out of the blonde’s abused and exhausted form. Waylon didn’t even have the energy to speed the process up by pushing it out. It hurt too much to try when he was urged to. He couldn’t even stand to remain propped up on his arms. He had reached his limit, letting his body lie down on the floor of the shower. “No, no, come on. You gotta stay up to get it out.” Rick directed but Waylon shook his head weakly.

 

A hoarse. “I can’t.” Broke from his lips.

 

“Well this sucks.” The doctor sighed. “Can’t be helped then.” He turned on the water for the shower and removed the blindfold and collar from Waylon’s eyes so the leather wasn’t ruined. He left Waylon’s body where it was, lying face down on the floor, seed pooling out of his abused body as the warm temperature controlled water rained down over him, helping thaw his cold body. Waylon watched through the slits of his lids as the doctor moved to his bag and retrieved a syringe filled with a clear liquid and returned, crouched at his side. The long silver hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail that looked more like a retiree and not a professional physician. His dull brown eyes glancing up at Waylon through circular wire rimmed glasses. Their eyes met for but a moment, the doctor offered a small smile of reassurance but Waylon had no energy to return a response. His blue orbs were clouded, his eyes rimmed red and bloodshot around the iris’ as they watched the tip of the needle be inserted into his arm. The plunger slowly pressed down, introducing the medicine into his system. “There we go. Have a nice little nap time.”

 

Waylon watched the doctor draw the empty syringe back and examine his form as the powerful drug set in. His eyes slipping shut, needing very little urging to give into the numbing pull of the medicine. His limbs felt like concrete blocks and his breathing evened out slowly, giving up all control to the tingly tendrils prying at his mind and slipping away into blissful silence. 


	8. Mr. Fantastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter then the rest so I hope you all don't mind. It's also a little more faster paced but i just want to get through some of the time frames without all that useless filler since the last Chapter covered a good portion of what was important.
> 
> Just like always, Thank you for all the feedback I've gotten on each update. I really enjoy it and appreciate it. Please drop a comment down below and let me know how I'm doing or if you have questions. I love seeing something in my inbox each day. Seriously. I just it a couple dozen times a day waiting for comments. No comment goes unappreciated. 
> 
> Thank you all who have stuck through this with me so far. I've said it before, this is a REALLY hard and most complicated fanfic I've ever done before. There's so much layering and foreboding and foreshadowing going on that I have to keep making sure I don't accidentally give stuff away too early. And slow burn usually isn't my kind of thing to write but i love reading it. So this is a whole new ball park I'm working with. So thank you for enduring each update with me.

Waylon spent a majority of the night in a drug induced sleep, his body had been cleaned up by Dr. Trager and he was dressed in a pair of boxers and his collar once more. His body laid out onto a large dog bed meant for great danes. It was expensive, with memory foam padding in it so Waylon’s battered body was allowed some form of relief from the cold floor. The doctor had also administered an i.v for a couple hours to keep the blonde male from becoming dehydrated from his punishment and preparing him for what terrors awaited him the next day.

 

Waylon was awoken abruptly with a foot nudged into his side, pressing over a sore bruised area of his body, drawing a groan from his lips as he curled up on himself. His arms wrapped around himself protectively as bleary blue orbs opened up and blinked up into the bright rays of morning sunshine cast down through the open doorway. The room he was in was mostly dark with the blinds drawn and was sparse as if it was used for storage or just hadn’t found a real use for it yet. Well, aside from housing him as a temporary pet room. One of the twins was looming over him, the taller one with the dark cropping of brown hair atop his bulging cranium. He dropped a plastic dog dish onto the floor and a bottle of water. One holding dried chocolate puff cereal that resembled dog chow. “Eat puppy.” The larger twin grunted out before turning away to leave, shutting the door behind himself.

 

Waylon looked down at the bowl, there was enough morning light crawling underneath the door that he could see the outline of the water bottle and the bowl. His stomach lurched at the thought of eating anything right now. He reached a shaky hand out to the water bottle, a twinge of pain rushing through his shoulder and down his back, making his features twist up into a grimace. He pulled the bottle up to his chest and curled back up, rolling over so his back was to the door as he took small sips of the room temperature liquid. Still, it was better than nothing.

 

The next time the door opened, the smaller twin came in to retrieve the still full bowl of now stale puff cereal and left a new dish sitting on the floor. This one contained kid’s cinnamon graham crackers in the shape of dog bones. Waylon didn’t see the comedy in any of this and once again ignored it the bowl. The third time the door opened, he expected it to be another one of the twins and another laughable dog bowl feature but this time it was someone much worse. The light in the room came up with a beep, another high tech digital feature installed into the wall near the doorway. Waylon noticed the tall silhouette of a normal man in a suit and when he turned his head, squinting up at the bright fluorescent lights, he found Jeremy Blaire in a dark blue suit staring down at him like Waylon was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his thousand dollar italian leather shoes.

 

“Get up Pet.It’s time for another lesson on being an obedient slut.” Waylon pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and was about to stand up when Jeremy slammed him back down, forcing him back into the wall and causing the dog bed to slid across the smooth white tile flooring. A yelp broke from Waylon’s lips as Blaire growled in irritation, his fingers curling around his throat. “Did I tell you you could stand? Did I pet?” He squeezed Waylon’s throat, causing him to choke and struggle before releasing him by shoving him over onto the tile, off the dog bed. “Dogs use all fours. Remember that Pet.”

 

And so the rest of the hellish weekend began. Waylon spend the next two hours sucking Blaire off with the same setup as before. Blindfold, ring gag, arms bound and egg vibrator only this time it was attached to his sack which was bound with a cock ring. Dr. Trager had stressed to Jeremy that if he wanted his pet to stay a certain way for the desired use, he would have to give Waylon’s ass a little break in between.

 

Waylon wasn’t allowed to cum even once and if he asked, he knew the punishment he would receive for it. When he wasn’t pleasuring Blaire, he was left lying on the floor, writhing from the stimulation of the toy while Jeremy worked. At night he was cleaned up by being dropped into a heap very unceremoniously into the shower by one of the twins and the high power spray with a connectable shower head normally used for cleaning the shower was used on Waylon. The force of the spray was painful on his already sore and abused body. Then he’d be given his boxers and the collar back on and dropped off into the bedroom, right back on the dog bed.

 

That Sunday, Waylon was abruptly awoken before the crack of dawn by an overly excited Jeremy Blaire. He was given a plate of toast with a small dab of butter smeared across each piece and a bottle of water. Already he was dying for a cup of coffee. His head pounded fiercely from caffeine withdrawals and his body was already trembling with need for it. After a short breakfast, he was dragged out, lubed up and situated in the previous attire once more with the appropriate toys already picked out. Egg vibrators once again. He got right to work sucking Jeremy off. By afternoon, he managed to do it without the ring gag in his mouth and was getting better with his tongue. By evening, he managed to get the crime boss off with less drool and for the fourth time that day.

 

After that he was dragged back to the room, left bound and gagged with a bite bar this time fastened between his teeth while he was tormented for two more hours by the toys. When night had fallen, a new figure entered the room, one Waylon recognized only by the sound of his voice through his blindfolded and delirious state. That nasally sound and the overly comfortable vocabulary and carefree demeanor. “Hey there buddy. Looking good.” The doctor chuckled. Waylon heard the sound of the suitcase being opened, the double click of the buckles unlocking on each end. The doctor hummed a tune as he rolled Waylon’s sweaty panting form over onto his stomach to get at his bound arms. An easy slide of the thumb and the buckled for the straps popped free.

 

A groan left Waylon as his swollen shoulders sent shocks of pain through his back and upper chest. His neck ached, adding to the catalyst of agony that had enveloped his entire body over the last couple days. “Time for a nice little nap. How does that sound, huh? I bet you’d like that.” The latex grip of gloved hands gently pulled one arm out straight as the tip of the needle was pressed into his skin at the crook of his elbow. The plunger was pushed slowly, introducing the medicine into his body. Waylon’s muffled groans and whimpers from behind the bite bar faded out as sleep took hold of him. His eyes slipping shut behind the blindfold and his body going slack.

  
  
  


Waylon was awoken by the blaring of his alarm clock signalling it was time for him to get his ass up and get ready for work. His eyes opened slowly, staring up at the crappy water stained ceiling of his apartment. The shades in his bedroom drawn to keep the early rays of sunlight out. His blue orbs blinking slowly, his thoughts drowning in a hazy fog of confusion. One hand reached out to grab blindly at the alarm clock, smacking the snooze button with a groan of annoyance. He turned his head to stare at the red block numbers silently judging him for not yet rolling out of bed. As his eyes slid over the nightstand, he spotted his wallet, house keys and phone deposited neatly in their appropriate locations. The small light in the upper corner of his phone flashed showing he had a missed message from somebody.

 

Waylon pushed himself up as he pulled the phone over to him, immediately regretting the decision to move as his entire body cried out in a massive knotted mess of sore muscles. He felt like a ball of yarn tossed in a basket and being pulled in several different directions at once. A groan rumbling out of his chest as he pressed the button on his phone and succeeding in accidentally blinding himself with the brightness. He squeezed his eyes shut as he dimmed the screen light on his phone before finding 23 missed texts from Miles and 9 missed phone calls. All of which were spanned over the weekend. The majority of them from the day before. Each one becoming more and more frantic than before. He groaned and buried his face back into his pillow once more, feeling like complete shit for leaving Miles hanging like that. This was supposed to be their weekend to hang out but he couldn’t really help it nor could he tell his best friend the truth. He couldn’t tell anyone the truth about what went on.

 

He contemplated rather or not he dared to make the trip to work but then remembered he used up most of his sick leave so he was screwed and couldn’t chance missing out on anymore days. His boss was pretty understanding but he really didn’t want to chance getting on their bad side. He rolled over, pushing himself back up into a sitting position, pushing the blanket back as he called Miles. Knowing the spastic journalist would be wide awake right now and would be too paranoid to just accept a simple “I’m still alive, don’t worry” text from him with what’s been going on lately.

 

The phone rang once, not even finishing the tone before Miles picked up with a sudden frantic blurting of the blonde male’s name. “Waylon!?” Waylon pulled the phone away from his head and winced with his raging caffeine headache.

 

His entire body throbbed at the same time as he slid off the edge of the bed to stand, almost stumbling at first as he cleared his throat. “Miles, too loud.” He groaned gaining a muttered _‘sorry’_ in return.

 

“Where have you been? You aren’t answering your phone! You’re not at your apartment when I stopped there. What the fuck man?” Miles started in a rush of questions. Waylon could just imagine the green eyed scowl with those messy brown locks, twisted up in a slept in look that was always way too perfect on the brunette.

 

“I’m sorry. I left work Friday not in the best shape so I thought it’d be best if I stay the weekend at Eddie’s place. I thought more of Blaire’s cronies were following me around.” Waylon lied with such ease it made his stomach twist up in guilt as he shuffled to the bathroom. He slid his boxers down a little ways to take a piss and, _god even that hurt._ He cursed under his breath.There wasn’t a single inch of skin on him that wasn’t bruised, scraped or sore.

 

“You alright?” Miles’ anger had subsided, but only partially for a more concerned tone. Silence rested afterwards as Waylon fixed his boxers and limped over to the sink to wash up.

 

“Yeah.” He gave a tired sigh that broke halfway through into a yawn. “I’m functional at least.”

 

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from Miles before his voice piped back up with an idea. “Meet me for lunch today. I’ll buy. Anything you want.” The words softened again, this time it was the Miles who had crouched beside him while he was sick in his bathroom. The kinder sympathetic man Waylon knew most of all. A rare sight for anyone else. “Please Way. I just want to make sure you’re really alright.”

 

There was no way Waylon could deny Miles when he used that voice. He closed his eyes and leaned against the sink, already envisioning those green puppy eyes, wide and pleading. Begging for a chance to be let in. Waylon cursed in the back of his mind then sighed. “Alright. Fine then.”

 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at...11:30 right?” Waylon’s lips curled into a smile at the fact Miles still remembered his work schedule for lunch. Of course Miles of all people would remember that. Miles remembers everything important. Even the smallest detail.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Waylon murmured, for once this morning he actually felt a little better. “Now, I gotta finish getting ready for work.”

 

“Aye aye!” Miles barked and the phone clicked off as the call hung up, leaving Waylon all alone in his apartment once more. Turning to leave the bathroom, he realized his clothes, much like last time, were neatly folded and set in the chair and his laptop was placed on it’s usual place at his desk, even going so far as to plug it in. The bag for it hung on the doorknob like Waylon always does so he doesn’t forget it when rushing in the mornings. At first it was reassuring but as his mind caught up to the fact Blaire had done this, it left Waylon feeling like his home was no longer his. _‘Of course it wasn’t. Blaire now owned the whole fucking building.’_ Waylon reminded himself and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

His morning consisted of rushing through his routine and out the door, stopping to get a cup of coffee from the place down the street then running to the adjacent streets to find a corner store that sold general items. He made his way, rather awkwardly to the back of the store and bought several small pads of concealer that matched his skin tone with an application kit, all of which he only knew about from watching his ex-girlfriend Lisa doll herself up each day before work or before going out for a date with him.

 

A quick stop in the bathroom of the store after paying for the supplies and he had managed to cover most of the bruising from Blaire’s abuse on his face, neck, arms and hands. He wore a long sleeve olive green sweater today over his usual long sleeve white button up to ensure he was covering up as much as he could. He barely managed to get to work on time, strolling through the door and waving a morning greeting to Sarah as he hurried to his office and shut himself inside.

 

Most of his morning consisted of fixing glitches in the product apps and addressing consumer complaints and feedback. One email after another came and went to the point they were one big blur that was further increasing Waylon’s growing headache. He thought the coffee this morning would have been enough to settle it but apparently that wasn’t enough, on top of the other pain he was feeling in the rest of his body. It got to the point even sitting hurt like hell and standing made him dizzy, so he weaseled his way up to the front desk and played his pretty blues to plead the receptionist to share a few advil with him.

 

She gave him a look that felt like her soft brown eyes were boring right through him, sparking a sudden twisting of nerves. She opened her mouth and leaned forward real close as she murmured. “Waylon, are you wearing makeup?”

 

He felt his stomach lurch and his eyes widened at first. He bit the inside of his lip as he raised a finger to his lips. “Sshh.” He said softly and leaned over the raised edge of the desk as if he was whispering a secret to the receptionist. “Don’t tell anybody but I tried to fix things with my ex over the weekend and she denied me by slapping me across the face with her design portfolio. It’s really embarrassing, please don’t tell anyone.” He gave her a sad puppy eyed expression that normally breaks Miles’ in two whenever he’s nitpicking him over something or refusing him a request, which is a rarity. His blue eyes meeting the receptionist’s soft brown.

 

“Oh, sure thing honey. My lips are sealed.” She gave a subtle zipper gesture before reaching into her desk. “Here, I use these when I haven migraines. They’re a hell of a lot stronger than advil.”

 

“Really? Thank you.” Waylon perked up as she deposited two into his palm.

 

“You’re most certainly welcome hun. A sweetheart like you has endured enough pain in one weekend.” She crooned, giving him a playful wink before the doors opened and somebody entered. He smiled at her before scampering back to his office.

 

“You have know idea.” Waylon breathed a sigh of relief once alone and popped the painkillers into his mouth like tictacs and downed them with a few sips of his leftover cold coffee. He shuddered in disgust then settled down in his chair.

 

Forty-five minutes later and Waylon was feeling _fucking fantastic,_ just in time for Miles to come pick him up for lunch. He was so buried into his work, he didn’t even notice the time until the receptionist knocked on his door to let him know he had a lunch meeting waiting for him up front. Waylon smiled and mouthed a quick ‘Thank you’ to her which was returned with a knowing smile at his more perked appearance and energy.

 

He finished up his email real quick, sent it and closed his laptop, getting up and racing out the door of his office to see Miles standing coolly in the front lobby. The receptionist raised a brow at the brunette, ogling him quietly but at the moment Miles was oblivious. Despite looking much more cleaned up and taken care of, Miles’ still retained the dark circles which Waylon swore were morphing on his perfect features, wondering if one day they would leak down his face like black tear trails. The image jumping to the forefront of his mind which he laughed off. Miles’ green orbs widened when he spotted his best friend and quickly pulled him into a tight embrace. Waylon heard a knowing hum from the receptionist as if she knew something he didn’t or wasn’t saying.

 

“So...lunch?” Waylon asked as he embrace Miles back for a few short heart beats before they parted.

 

Miles had his hands on either side of Waylon’s shoulders which if it wasn’t for the pills he was on at the moment, he’d probably be buckled over in misery by now from the tight chest squeezing embrace alone. “Sure thing. How about that brick oven pizza place down on Church?” It was a small little suburban hole in the wall joint but they had the best seasoning on their pizzas and Miles’ crazed sweet tooth would take on a whole flat of cinnamon breadsticks before the pizza even arrives.

 

“Sounds good.” Waylon agreed with a curt nod of agreement. Miles searched Waylon’s expression for a long time, pausing as his eyes roamed over the smaller male as if expecting to find something out of the ordinary. Waylon wondered idly if Miles suspected Waylon had been having trouble with more than just being followed by Blaire’s men or if he noticed something off with his perky energetic demeanor. Whatever it was, Miles shook his head and gave Waylon a reassuring smile before placing a hand on his best friend’s shoulder and steering him out the door to the jeep.


	9. AL[LIES]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon does quite a bit of lying and Miles does what he does best. Investigating though this time the target is rather unusual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So their is going to be a lot of POV jumping going on. I was super stuck on this chapter and how to start it so I ended up starting with Miles POV.
> 
> Also, the title it a play on the content of this chapter. I wonder if you guys will figure it out. If you think you know why I did the title the way it is, let me know. I was attempting to be witty and I'm curious to know if it worked out the way I want it to.

 

The pizza place was a small hole in the wall building tucked between a sports bar and a yogurt shop near the corner of Church street. It was decorated with dark earthy tones and dark wood interior. The dim lamp lighting and drawn shades created a different atmosphere that easily transported you out of the city. The old fashioned brick ovens took up one half of the building and the kitchen was all open to the dining room, allowing the customers to watch their food be made with skilled hands. Miles had chosen a booth in the corner, furthest from the ovens but still with a good enough view of the chefs making their food. It was early enough in the day, the place had just opened so there was only one other couple seated and they had just started on their pizzas. The aroma of bread being baked and cheese melting in an over fire filled the room and had Waylon’s empty stomach growling eagerly for a piece.

 

The waitress came and took their order, Miles wanting his cinnamon bread right off the bat and they ordered a large pizza with bacon, ham, and pepperoni all over it. The crusts of the pizzas always had a sweetness to them here and their sauce was naturally sweet from the tomatoes they used which made this place extremely popular on the weekends. As the waitress brought them their drinks, Waylon started to pull the straw out of the white wrapper as Miles started to speak. “You seem to be in a lot better mood since this morning.” Miles commented before taking a deep gulp of his drink.

 

Waylon took a small sip of his, his fingers fiddling with the wrapper from his straw, folding it up between his fingers in symmetrical half folds on each side so they’d meet perfectly in the middle. “I had a really bad migraine all morning. I bummed a couple painkillers off of the receptionist.” He said with a soft smile on his lips. His expression was far more relaxed than anything Miles had seen in a long time. It seemed Waylon always had something stressing him out of something to worry about. Yet now, when all hell was raining down on him, he looked content and unfazed.

 

“Yeah, like advil?” Miles asked, watching Waylon closely, seeing the blue eyed male’s gaze flitting about the room like a kid on a sugar rush. Normally Miles was the one all over the place but today, Waylon seemed flighty and not in the usual way. It’s like watching a magpie in a jewelry store. It’s all over the place.

 

Waylon hummed and shook his head, taking another few sips of his drink. “Something better. It got rid of my migraine in no time.” His gaze rested on Miles for a moment, a smile spread across his features. “You look tired. You should get some more sleep. You can’t keep running on Red Bull in your coffee each day dude. You’re going to burn out.”

 

Miles sighed, resting his head in his palm, his elbow propping it up on the table as he stirred the straw in his drink idly. “Yeah, if you say so Way. I’m more worried about you right now.”

 

“Me?” Waylon asked, leaning back in the booth. His back pressing against the cushions, causing a soft hiss of air leaving the plush burgundy leather seats. “Don’t worry about me. If anything happens, I’ve got Eddie. You just keep chasing the truth.”

 

 _‘That’s what I’m doing Way.’_ Miles thought to himself. _‘But you won’t let me in.’_ Both of their gazes were drawn by the waitress as she came over with a wooden flat with cinnamon breadsticks and two small containers of sweet icing on the side. She placed it in between the two males then set out a small appetizer sized plate in front of each before scurrying off. Miles seemed to forget or just dropped the conversation in favor of devouring a couple pieces of the sweet bread.

 

Waylon appreciated the silence that fell between them as they ate. He only had a piece he nibbled on, mostly saving space for the main course. He caught sight of the chef adjusting the pizza in the oven with the massive wooden spatula making sure it got nice and crispy on all sides. “Hey Way.” The voice brought his attention back to Miles who was on his fourth piece of cinnamon bread. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be out of town this weekend. I’ve gotta do some follow up work on that case I did a couple weeks back. All the buzz has calmed down now.”

 

Waylon nodded, taking a sip of his drink before speaking. “Alright. Just be careful while you’re gone. No more teasing security guards.” Waylon lightly chastised.

 

“Oh come on. That guy was a dick. And he broke my phone for no reason.” Miles started in, getting easily wound up when it came to talking about his exploits for his job.

 

“Yeah because a random guy holding it up at awkward angles, aiming it at a restricted areas isn’t suspicious at all.” Waylon rolled his eyes and laughed.

 

“I could have been trying to get service. That place was so remote, there was only like three spots in that whole damn town with cell signal and they were all in ‘restricted’ zones.” Miles pointed at Waylon with a matter-of-fact look, holding out a cinnamon breadstick like a pointing stick before taking a bite off the end.

 

Waylon clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Somebody doesn’t want to share.”

 

The rest of Waylon’s lunch break went on like that. A easy going vibe that was normal between those two. It felt familiar and comfortable and all the topics were about better times and better days. Before all this hell started up. It put Waylon’s mind at ease and in turn helped Miles relax and worry about his best friend a little less. He was glad Waylon could still find moments where he could let his guard down like this. The image of his best friend the day at the diner was still stuck in his head. Looking so scared out of his mind. It torments Miles each night, taunting him with his failure to keep Waylon safe. That he’s not doing enough to protect him. That ate the journalist up and his only cure for that was to do more research. To look into Murkoff even more. To contact every single contact he had on the streets and out in the world looking for every last inch of information that could be dug up on Jeremy Blaire and the Murkoff family. He put out all the stops and floored his investigation. All for Waylon.

 

After lunch, Miles dropped Waylon back off at his workplace. The smaller blonde male was lit up with laughter and smiles the whole time. He was relaxed and comfortable in the brunette’s presence. Miles entire demeanor was infectious. His energy and spunk. It easily wormed into Waylon and always made his day seem brighter. Allowing him a rare relief from the worries of the world. It followed him right to his office and continued to do so for the rest of the day.

 

Unbeknownst to Waylon, Miles hadn’t gone home like he believed. The investigative journalist did what he does best. He parked his jeep off a ways down the street, opposite the route Waylon normally takes when walking towards his apartment and lingered. Watching the office for a little bit but mostly inspected the vehicles that moved back and forth along the street. That passed and stopped in front of the office building. The day went by uneventful. He walked a distance behind Waylon when he left work for the day. The blonde male was fiddling with his phone and clutching the bag strap out of habit. A couple times Miles got close enough to hear there was music playing from Waylon’s phone and there was one headphone stuck in his ear as he walked about. Waylon only stopped at one place on the way home that was a corner grocer a couple blocks away to pick up a few things. Then he headed for his apartment where he remained the rest of the night.

 

Miles continued to follow Waylon for the next couple days. Often texting him throughout, asking him if he was feeling better and how his day was going. All the while watching Waylon’s physical reactions. The most common was a smile that popped up on the blond’s face each time he read Miles’ texts and at one point Miles could hear Waylon laugh. This was a lot different than how he usually investigates someone but he was having fun with it.

 

Waylon didn’t really stray from his normal routine. He’d get up in the morning, get ready for work, stop at the coffee shop down the street then head on to work. He’d stay there all day long unless a coworker asks him out for lunch then he’d leave at the end of the day and head home. Only stopping at the corner grocer occasionally for something quick for dinner or some ingredient he was lacking. He’d go home and stay there all night long. Tuesday night and Wednesday were the same. Thursday night differed from the norm.

 

On his way home, Waylon diverged from his normal path, catching Miles off guard. He headed in the opposite direction that he normally takes home at a certain intersection. Passing by the corner bakery there and heading to a different store altogether. It was sort of like a mini mart. Miles went inside and pulled a hoodie up over his face to seem a little less noticeable. He ditched his usual brown jacket knowing Waylon would recognize it without a doubt. Instead he wore a dark heather gray college hoodie from a few years back. He watched the blond rummage through a few shelves, eyeing each as he walked up and down the aisle. He lingered in one that sold instant drink mixes and coffee. _‘Okay, that’s not really weird. Waylon is a coffee hound.’_ But the blonde walked right past the coffee and headed to a row of specialty tea. He perused a couple different boxes until he found one that seemed to interest him and dropped it into the little red basket he was carrying around. _‘Since when did he start drinking tea?’_ Miles thought to himself.

 

Then the male skipped a few aisles, not even giving them a second glance and ended up in a tupperware type aisle. The kind that sold dishes and containers. He roamed through it and spotted a shelf that was on special. It had signature stainless steel spill proof To-Go mugs in time for the colder weather that was coming. There were superhero mugs, some had quotes or sayings on them. Some had cats but Waylon dug through the display until he found one that had a tuxedo design on the front. Miles was sort of betting he would go for one with a Cat on it but the tuxedo was odd. Especially for Waylon who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a monkey suit.

 

Miles sighed, his eyes lowered to the display of cookies he was standing near. He bit his lip in contemplation, his eyes glancing up to where Waylon stood, inspecting the other travel mug accessories before looking back down at the autumn shaped sugar cookies in plastic containers. They were just calling his name. Giving in to his own sweet tooth, he grabbed one and made his way to the check outs behind Waylon. Picking the checkout two rows down and facing Waylon’s back as the clerks rang up their items. He lingered a bit, taking his time paying as he watched Waylon pick up a pink gift bag that was hanging on a display next to him. Opting to have the items bagged in that and parting from the counter with a smile and a few words of appreciation. Miles followed right after the male, wondering if maybe it was somebody's birthday.

 

Miles continued to follow Waylon down the street. The weather was getting chillier and night was drawing nearer and nearer with each passing day showing the change of seasons coming. They crossed two intersections and ended up on the outskirts of the main shopping area. Miles took up position at a dance studio across the street which had already closed for the night. His eyes following Waylon as he went to the bridal shop across the way. A beautiful wedding gown was displayed in the front windows with delicate stitching and detail. The bodice wasn’t like any normal gown, the curves weren’t very noticeable on the mannequin and it was narrow in the hips where as most gowns open up and flow outward to accentuate a female’s wide hip range more. It looked to Miles almost like it was made for a flat chested bride or a man which made him wonder what the rest of the store entailed. Either that or it was just his imagination. He was used to magazine images of big breasted blushing brides with wide hips and too much junk in the trunk, buried under layers of fabric.

 

He sank down into the shadows of the building, his box of cookies in his lap as he plucked one out and started munching on it while he waited.

 

* * *

 

 

Waylon was a bit nervous as he approached Eddie’s shop. He didn’t really know what he was going to say to the male. He had been replaying the scene in the tailor’s apartment over and over in his head for some time and today most of all. He even found himself touching his fingers to his lip wistfully amidst bouts of zoning out in his office. It was in the last hour or so that he decided he would try to fix things with Eddie. Well if they need fixing. He wasn’t really sure. That whole scene was surprising and left Waylon questioning so many things in his life right now but his sexuality wasn’t one of them. He was pretty sure at this point an innocent kiss on the lips with Eddie was the last thing he should be questioning after Blaire shoved his cock down his throat too many times for him to count on two hands.

 

His face was beat red at that, wondering what Eddie would think if he only knew what had become of him. Or where his lips had been. He was ashamed of himself and of the fact that was even a thought that had to cross his mind. And of all times right when he’s about to walk into the shop. He knew Eddie worked later on Thursday nights. Usually picks up and deliveries came on Fridays and Saturdays so the raven haired male worked hard to get his week’s work done in time. Often staying up in all hours of the night. It hit Waylon just how much he’s learned about the larger male just from that week or so of living with him. He knew the tailor’s favorite tea. His favorite bakery and favorite pastries. He knew so much, some of which he knew he shouldn’t  and yet Eddie knew so little about him. Eddie only knew the trouble in Waylon’s life and what sort of danger he had managed to land himself in.

 

With a deep breath, Waylon clutched the gift bag in his hand, the bright pink paper was out of place but that was all they had and it felt kind of strange handing it to another man but he didn’t think Eddie would really mind. He placed a hand on the door and pushed, finding it was still open and would be for another hour at least before Eddie takes his work upstairs. The soft chime of the bell at the entrance signalled his presence. The charming tone of voice piped up from the back to greet the customer. “Welcome! I’ll be there in a moment.”

 

Waylon gave a nod, knowing the male couldn’t see it as he slowly approached the front desk where orders were taken and paid for and the phone was answered. The backroom door was wide open and Waylon stepped to the side to see within to find Eddie working with a gown arranged carefully on a mannequin. He had half a dozen fabric pins held between his lips as he placed them into the pieces of white fabric to keep them in place. His fingers working quickly. His eyes focused, one thumb rolling down along the edges as he planned out each seam and fold until every bit was pinned in it’s rightful place.

 

Waylon scampered back to the other side of the counter when Eddie started to turn towards the doorway. Ensuring he was out of sight so the hulking male wouldn’t notice he was spying on him. When  he walked out behind the counter, Waylon noted the perfectly slicked back black hair was a little off kilter. Probably from looking down all the time to work on certain parts of the gowns, it had shifted and appeared to have fallen out of place only to be hastily combed back with his fingers to look presentable for customers. He had dark circles beginning to form beneath his eyes from sleepless nights. It was dress season. Fairs, festivals, dances and weddings. The shop tailored to all sorts of formal wear. Wedding gowns were just the most popular.

 

The larger male’s eyes seemed to widen when those deep blue orbs fell upon Waylon. Eddie blinked a couple times as if expecting him to vanish from view if he did so but Waylon remained. He had tucked the bag behind his back, his hands holding onto it like a sheepish school girl. His own blonde locks were disheveled from the wind outside tossing them around at random but he didn’t mind. It was the end of the day and Eddie has honestly seen him with first class bedhead in the mornings so he couldn’t really get any worse from there. “Waylon?” He started, his words trailing off before he added. “Darling, what are you doing here?”

 

“Hey Eddie.” He bit the inside of his lip as the dumbfounded look deepened on Eddie’s features. Waylon noticed the male was studying him much like Waylon had when he first spotted him in the back. At first it was nice but then Waylon’s nerves started, reminding him of the bruises he had to cover up with the make-up. If his receptionist could spot it, he wouldn’t put it past Eddie to as well. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. Oh! And I got you something.” Waylon said softly, holding out the bag to Eddie with one hand. His other gripped the strap to his laptop bag out of habit.

 

“O-oh. Really?” Eddie seemed to stumble over his words, a bit surprised after how their last encounter went. It wasn’t really negative but Eddie had still gone over that scene again and again in his head each night and told himself how stupid he was. He thought he’d never see Waylon again, at least not on an intentional visit to his shop. Least of all did he expect the computer tech to bring him another gift. It was puzzling but he accepted the bag all the same. “Thank you darling.” Waylon gestured for him to open it which Eddie did, setting the bag on the reception counter and pulling out the contents to examine each one. He laughed when he saw the travel mug and the design on the front. It almost resembled his daily attire.

 

“I thought you’d like something that you could bring down with you. For drinking your tea and what not. It doesn’t spill and it keeps it hot longer.” Waylon rambled out of habit, nervous fidgeting with his bag. “There’s also tea inside the bag.” He pointed out, causing Eddie to look back in and find the box of tea bags. Even better was the fact it was his favorite kind. Neither of them are cheap at all which made Eddie feel a little bad because Waylon was always frantic about keeping up on rent and work.

 

“Thank you darling. I love it.” His eyes went back to the travel mug, rubbing his thumb over the design on the front before looking back up at Waylon. “How’s work?” The raven haired male didn’t want to mention the other issues plaguing Waylon. Afraid of upsetting him even though Eddie was worried that things might get out of hand. With Blaire it could easily get out of hand and usually does.

 

“It’s going well.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, ruffling up his hair a little bit which he realized was getting a bit long. His scalp was a little tender still from all the times Blaire grabbed at it and pulled so harshly causing him to return his hand to his bag strap. “I haven’t really been having much trouble with Blaire lately either so things have been going good.”

 

“Really?” Eddie was surprised to hear that. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned against it.

 

“Yeah. It could also be due to me catching a ride with Miles to and from work most days and I’ve been spending the weekends at his place.” Waylon explained, his eyes flitting across Eddie’s features for a moment before he tilted his head down slightly to fix his strap which was caught on his belt. “He might have backed off a bit because of Miles being with me all the time. Or he got bored and gave up.”

 

 _‘Blaire doesn’t just give up. Especially not after harassing his target for so long.’_ Eddie thought to himself. He didn’t want to voice it, not wanting to scare Waylon away or add kindling to the fire. He was sure as long as Waylon stuck with Miles he would be a bit safer. Even if Blaire came after him, having Miles around would probably give them a fighting chance at least. At least he hoped. As long as this Miles guy wasn’t as timid and jumpy as Waylon. Eddie couldn’t help but worry about the smaller male and feel a bit of jealousy that Miles was the one spending all his time with Waylon. Eddie would rather the blonde remained under his protection right here. But life doesn’t always do things the way you want. “That’s good news then.”

 

Waylon gave a nod of agreement. Silence settled in between them as Waylon fidgeted with his bag strap once more, smoothing the strap out over his chest from it’s slightly folded position. “Listen Waylon...I want to-” Eddie was cut off by the chime of the bell as the front door opened. Drawing both of their attentions as a middle aged woman in a sleek black pants suit walked in with her expensive designer bag hanging from her elbow and even more expensive Prada heels. Eddie narrowed his eyes at the woman for just a moment but he was far enough away from her that his momentary dirty look was missed as his _‘service with a smile_ ’ facade was put up. “Welcome Miss, how can i help you today?” He greeted the woman warmly or at least it seemed as such.

 

His blue eyes shifting to Waylon who gave an apologetic smile and started to slink back away from the counter to allow the customer to approach. Eddie wanted so badly to reach out and grab the blonde. To pull him back up to the counter, to lean over and kiss him again. No matter if the customer was there but he remained where he was. The counter separating him from his beloved like a raging river that couldn’t be crossed. He watched mournfully as Waylon made his way out of the store. The ghostly chime setting off a twinge of guilt and regret in his chest. A pain like no other he has felt before.


	10. A Chill in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is as cold as ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am VERY VERY VERY sorry for taking so long on this update. A LOT of stressful shit has happened the last few weeks and have been problematic in getting this chapter done. I had the whole chapter planned out but life kept getting in the way. We're nearing the end of the road soon. Just a couple more chapters before this reaches it's end. The next few chapters I have well planned out as well and I'm thinking it'll end up being somewhere between 14-16 chapters long depending on how my follow up goes afterwards. But it's undecided since there is still a WHOLE LOT that is going to happen in a very short amount of time and our boys are going to be in a lot of trouble. Miles and Eddie included. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who have stuck by me through this roller coaster of mafia crazy the whole time and have offered such immense support, advice and rather delightful commentary at the end of each chapter. I look forward to reading the responses to this each time I update and I enjoy everything you, my beautiful followers, have to say. Especially since some of these chapters have been brutal to try and piece together since I'm terrible at fluff and pacing. So thank you all again and enjoy!

Miles was forced to pause his reconnaissance of Waylon’s routine by Friday morning. He packed a bag, sent Waylon a text letting him know he was heading out for the next few days. Feeling Waylon was in safe enough hands with Eddie for a couple days, he headed out of town with a bit better conscience about leaving his friends alone for a short while.

 

Waylon on the other hand felt a cold chill snag at his chest when he saw Miles was leaving. Right after that text came another from a number he was both anticipating and dreading all the same. Blaire’s command to his pet. He knew the Twins would be waiting outside for him after work and he had no way to avoid it. He stayed in his office the entire day, even as Sarah offered for him to join her and the receptionist for lunch, he politely declined and was left alone in his office. The space felt far too cramped as the hours ticked by. The walls felt suffocatingly close and he couldn’t sit still. When the time came for him to head home, he felt like he was heading to his grave. Half expecting the receptionist to call out “Dead man walking!” As he headed out the door. He was greeted by the SUV with its windows rolled down, parked a few spaces down the sidewalk so it was out of view of his coworkers. The taller Twin in the passenger seat beckoned him over with a stony stare that felt like it was boring right through him.

 

Today’s session started off stranger than before. He was blindfolded upon entering the building. The ride felt shorter than normal up the elevator but Waylon assumed it was just his imagination as he was ushered through the doors and onto the floor where Blaire awaited them. The room was a large conference room that looked out over the city with massive windows but they were tinted to keep both the intense Denver sun out and avoid prying eyes from peering in. There was a large ebony glass table that could seat up to a dozen people with plump cushioned chairs around it. Three different basins filled with ice housed bottles of champagne in the center and the room smelled like cigar smoke and different scents of expensive cologne showing it was recently occupied for a meeting. Mr. Blaire sat at the head of the table with a glass in hand, quietly sipping at it as Waylon was left before him.

 

His clothing was stripped from his body where he stood and his bag was taken. He was pushed forward to be left bent over the table where he felt a harsh grip on the back of his neck. There was a soft ding that rang in the room, signalling the elevator had reached the floor. He thought it was the twins leaving but then the familiar nasally voice entered the room. “Hey there Jer!”

 

“Did you bring what we talked about before the meeting?” Jeremy’s voice sent cold chills down Waylon’s spine. The grip on his neck tightened, keeping him bent over the table. His fingers splayed across the cold polished surface. He had a feeling he was leaving fingerprints all over the soft glass but he didn’t really worry about that at the moment as he heard the snap of rubber gloves.

 

“Of course, what do you take me for? An amateur?” There was a bark of laughter as the sound of a briefcase plopped into the chair and clicked open. There was quiet rustling before he felt a hand rest on his hip. The rubber was dry against his skin as it slid along to his back and held firmly over the dip. He felt like a dog at a pet show, one hand on his tailbone and one at his neck. He heard a cough nearby, a different position in the room and to his horror, he realized it came from one of the twins. Waylon became even more self conscious of his position with all the bodies in the room, watching him. _Touching him._

 

He felt a cold substance slid across his entrance, the thumb of the doctor’s glove rubbing circles over his tight ring of muscle. A knee bumped his thigh, urging him to spread his legs further apart and he obeyed if only to lessen his own discomfort. A finger circle the tight ring of muscle before giving an experimental push inside. Waylon whimpered as it slid in to the middle knuckle. The grip on his neck tightened, pinching at the base, causing his head to tip back to arch away from the grip and the pain that came with it. His lips parted with a groan as the finger moved in an out of him before it pushed all the way inside then pulled out. Waylon bit his lip as a hard plastic nozzle was pressed up like the kind that would be at the end of a squeeze bottle of sorts. But the plastic piece was small, like a cartridge and full of a light pink liquid.

 

The doctor squeezed the body of the cartridge and it squirted the pink liquid inside Waylon’s ass. It was cold and drew a gasp from his lips. His gasp increased to a startled groan as a plug followed right after. It pushed inside, a smaller sized plug that wouldn’t cause much unwanted stretching, after all, the desire was in the tightness of Waylon’s ass. Once the plug was fixed in place, a leather belt like harness was placed around his hips and came up between his legs to lock around his member. It had smaller leather straps that tightened around the sack and perineum to ensure he couldn’t cum. But before it was tightened down, a long thin plastic rod with grooves was lubricated with the same sweet smelling lubricant as his ass then was pushed inside his slit, all the way down to the base. It had Waylon bucking in place to get away from. That earned him a hard swat across his rear that drew a yelp from his lips. When he tried to pull away from the doctor again to hinder his efforts, the grip on his neck forcefully slammed him down into the table, causing him to hit his head and held him there. Pain exploded in the side of Waylon’s face and his nose, a trickle of hot metallic liquid dripped from his nose and onto the table surface. A few drops even running down over hip lips and sliding over his tongue.

 

There was a sneer of disapproval and a whimper as the urethral plug was successfully inserted and was locked in place with the cock cage. The doctor drew back and there was more rustling. Bare fingers wove into his blonde locks and curled, knotting up a fistful and pulling his head back. His lips parted with a groan as a bite bar was forced into his mouth. The straps were clipped into place behind his head, with a matching collar that was placed around his throat. The thick leather and heavy ID tag stating what he was. The familiar feel was a terrifying reminder of ownership and his own lack of freedom. At least for a few days, he was a prisoner here.

 

He felt dizzy and lightheaded as seconds passed, something that caught him off guard. He thought it may have been from the hit to his head but it was soon quickly accompanied with a steadily increasing heat that rolled up along his skin. His body started to relax and every touch from the doctor on his body caused a strange tingly static sensation. He didn’t even tense up or resist as his arms were tugged out from under him and pulled behind his back to be belted in place. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, nostrils flaring as he panted softly, squirming in place to try and disband the intense heat on his skin. A soft pink flush dusted pale flesh. His hair stood on end as goosebumps rushed over him. His body was rolled over so he was lying on his arms and pushed further up on the glass so his entire back and ass were on it, smearing the blood into streaks that stained his skin.

 

A spreader bar was fixed between his ankles and his legs were left in an open bent position. His back forced to arch around his arms as even the cold of the glass tabletop couldn’t sooth the intense heat. As he was shifted, he felt something fluffy and soft lie against his thigh. It tickled and made the need burning in his belly worsen. It wasn’t long before he realized the plug he was wearing had a tail attachment and on top of it, it was brushing against his hard bound member.

 

“You look a little warm Pet.” Jeremy’s voice taunted. The jostling of ice in a scotch glass had Waylon swallowing thickly. Cold water sounded pleasant to him. A cool refreshing drink down his parched throat. His panting increased as did the need inside him. Conflicted and confusing what he really wanted. There was soft rustling in the bowl near Waylon. The soft movement of air as Jeremy shifted past him rushed over Waylon’s skin before something freezing cold and hard was pressed over the dip in his rib cage as it lowered to his belly and abdomen. His body jerked and his stomach shallowed as Waylon held his breath to get away from the cold shock. The ice cube was already melting and left trails of icy water racing down his skin. He shivered, urgent sounds muffled by the bite bar as he squirmed on the table in desperation. “What was that pet? Is it not enough?” He could practically hear Jeremy’s lips pulling back into a devilish grin. “I guess I’ll have to give a little mercy.” He felt the furry portion of the tail being tugged and the plug popped out with an uncomfortable sound that made Waylon cry out. His lower half wiggled to get leverage but strong hands gripped his hips and pressed them down into the table. They were far too big and meaty to belong to the doctor or Jeremy.

 

A gloved hand slid over his twitching entrance before the cold hard sensation of a much larger ice cube then the first was pushed inside. It too was in the midst of melting and had some assistance by the lubricant and water, the cold had Waylon fighting the hands desperately Bucking his hips and clenching down to stop the cube but it was too late. The doctor’s finger had pushed it all the way inside. A little extra lubricant was added and the plug was pushed back inside. A searing pain shock through him between the icy chill that burned and the plug forcing open his tight constricted muscle and pressing into the cube itself. He felt it melting inside him. Could feel the water leaking into his cavity. What he wasn’t expecting was the plug to come to life. Vibrating on a dull hum and forcing the cube to shift and move around against his prostate.

 

His breath hitched, tears forming in his eyes behind the blindfold from the intensity of all the powerful sensations. Pain and pleasure twisted up perversely and confused by the drug now running rampant in his body. His member twitched and throbbed painfully as the stimulation continued and the ice cube continued to melt within his heated insides. The vibrations causing the water to swish and slosh around inside uncomfortably. “I think you might need a little more help.” The hands continued to hold Waylon in place, gripping painfully against the blonde’s bucking and jerking motions. His shoulders ached as his arms started to go numb and fall asleep under the weight of his own body. The belts biting into his flesh.

 

He felt the chill of two ice cubes rubbing slowly over his nipples, forcing them to tighten and constrict from the cold. Becoming hard nubs. The melted droplets racing down his body like tear tracks in the process. They were left to sit over the nubs, chilling his skin as another series of cubes was used to trace the dips and curves of Waylon’s hips and abdomen, along quivering muscle and flesh. His sounds were muffled and snuffed out by the bite bar. His breathing heavy through his nostrils as some droplets of blood streaked down the side of his face, drying slowly. His head turned and jerked, shaking it in a silent plea to stop. Yet Jeremy completely ignored them, finding it mildly amusing, the sounds coming from his pet. He left the cubes on his belly and abdomen to melt into small puddles before retrieving another cube from the basin. He ran it down along Waylon’s inner groin right up against where his thigh and crotch meet. Waylon jerked and whimpered as the cubes were pressed there before moving to rest on his bound sack and erection. Two cubes were able to balance nicely on his testicles, making Waylon stir even more and nearly cause the cubes to slip off.

 

Jeremy made a growl of annoyance and brought his palm down flat on Waylon’s wet and chilled belly. The slap echoed throughout the room and made the other three occupants cringe. A muffled scream came from Waylon’s throat as he whimpered. A perfect red hand print formed on his skin from Jeremy. “Did I say you can move pet? Did I?” Another hard slap hit Waylon’s belly above the belly button and the previous red print.  The pain was incredible on his chilled skin. Pinpricks of needle like jolts driving Waylon to make a pitiful attempt to curl his body to protect himself. It only gained him another hard slap to his inner thigh before a hand snaked around Waylon’s throat and pinned his body to the table.

 

Jeremy’s grip squeezing around his pet’s windpipe in a threat to strangle him. “Disobedience is swiftly met with consequence. You will not like the consequences that follow should you continue to disobey me _Pet_.” Those words were colder than the ice cubes, causing Waylon to freeze up. He gasped and trembled, struggling to breath through his nostrils. The panic seizing up his chest and he felt his eyes start to roll as dizziness rushed over his mind like the room was tipping and tumbling. He was on the verge of losing consciousness when the hand released his throat and he was permitted to breath again. His nostrils flaring to take in as much oxygen as he could. Tears escaped the blindfold and rolled down the sides of his temples and dampened his blonde locks.

 

“This is boring.” Jeremy grunted and shifted in his seat. The sound of the glass could be heard in hand, ice shifting as the mafia boss sipped at the last golden drops of his scotch before sitting in on the table. “Leave him tied up. I think a lesson is to be learned in this situation. Maybe a couple hours on high level will get him more acquainted with how a good pet should act.” There was a shift near the table, a chair bumping another before the sound of ice shifting came. Waylon’s body was assaulted with a heap of melting ice and freezing water as it was dumped out of the basin and over his chest and abdomen. His body went rigid on the table, chest heaving for breaths as the cold assaulted his body. The basin was thrown to the floor and the glass surface absorbed the chill of the ice and had his body going numb from cold. “I’ll be in a meeting for the afternoon. Rick, you’ve got the rest.”

 

“Of course Jer. He’ll be in good hands.” The nasally laughter was hardly noticed by Waylon as he writhed, the ice shifting and scraping on the table. The soft ding of the elevator came signalling Jeremy had left the floor. It felt like eternity afterwards before the ice was cleared away or melted away and his body was collected. He was shivering, the vibrating plug inside him had increased in intensity but he was too cold for it to have much effect other than causing him pain. His entire groin felt like it was burning, aching with the desire for release as he remained bound and plugged.

 

Waylon was in and out of a daze as he was lifted by one of the twins or both of them even and carried like a sack of potatoes slung over their shoulder. The bony structure jamming into his aching belly with it’s large red and now bruising hand prints on his pale flesh. He was pretty sure he even had bruises around his throat from Jeremy’s grip earlier. It felt like a long time before they reached the desired floor and not long after that, he was dropped onto his side with a painful thump. His fall cushioned only by the dog bed that he had become very well acquainted with from the last time he was here.

 

Waylon didn’t remember when he had fallen asleep or if he had just lost consciousness but he was abruptly awoken to water being dumped on his face, causing some of it to run down into his nose. He rolled over and started to cough and snort, trying to clear his air ways, biting down on the bar still firmly placed in his mouth. His jaw was sore, feeling stiff and swollen from the prolonged position and his entire body hurt. Still feeling cold to the touch. Moving was hard. He was sluggish and clumsy, feeling like he was slowly turning into an ice cube himself.

 

It took some time for him to realize his member was no longer bound by the cock cage and about the same amount of time to realize he was no longer blindfolded. He did a quick look down at himself finding the spreader bar was absent, the tail attachment and plug were still in place and instead of the cock cage and urethral plug, he had a catheter inside him and marks in his arm to show the doctor had put and I.V in him. It was gone now but the bandaging on his inner arm over the needle marks was present. He didn’t know which was more disturbing, the fact the doctor had gone ahead and done them, or the fact he had remained passed out throughout the process.

 

His head snapped up to find one of the twins was looming over him with an empty glass in hand. He gave a snicker of amusement at the twisted expression of disgust on Waylon’s face at the exchanged ‘accessories’ on his body. The look he gave the smaller male could make the day cringe half expecting maggots to crawl out of his slimy smile. He turned and left right after another good minute or so of staring Waylon down uncomfortably, shutting the door behind himself. Waylon shifted on the bed a bit until he found a spot that was less wet and laid down again, trying to get as comfortable as he could, his brows knitted in confusion. Several minutes passed and the door opened back up. The tall slim figure of the doctor walked in, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he set his briefcase aside and pulled on a pair of blue rubber gloves from his pocket. “How ya feeling buddy? Good? Good.” He answered for Waylon without a moment’s pause and continued with his work, rambling on about things Waylon had no clue on.

 

He removed the catheter from Waylon and cleaned his body up a bit more. He removed the bandage from his arm and made certain it had stopped bleeding then gripped his jaw careful, tilting his head back and examined his nose and the side of his face where he had hit the table. He flashed a small light in Waylon’s eyes before giving a sound of approval. “Jer has a bad habit of breaking his new toys. You on the other hand, are either more durable or he’s being much more careful.” A cackle of amusement rumbled out of Rick’s throat before before his thin lips spread into an unsettling grin. “I doubt he’s being careful but then again this is about money and Jer has always been a man of promise when it comes to profit.” The rambling continued as idle mumbling. Waylon tuned it out until the bite bar was removed from his mouth.

 

Rick hooked his fingers behind Waylon’s jaw, right up against the joints as he directed. “Now buddy, open and close your mouth slowly. Can you do that for me? Of course you can. Come on.” His tone was breathy and a little shaky as per usual. Yet he seemed firm in his actions that proved he knew exactly what he was doing. Waylon slowly followed the command and opened his jaw. Wincing as he moved it as far open as he could then closed it. Richard had him doing this several times before he was satisfied. When he was done, he gave Waylon’s cheek a light slap of approval, causing the blonde to flinch at the gesture. “Well, everything’s in good working order. Jer will be pleased.” He collected his things quickly after that, gave Waylon a degrading pat on the head before leaving the room.

 

A few more minutes passed in silence and Waylon was about to curl back up onto the bed when the second twin walked in with a leash in hand. He didn’t even give Waylon a warning before he clipped the leash to the ring on his collar and started dragging him across the floor with a simple. “Come doggy.” Waylon scrambled to keep up, forced to remain on his hands and knees as he was pulled out into the main room and back towards the sitting area where the couch and the glass coffee table were. Jeremy was in a navy blue suit sitting with a glass of scotch in one hand, idly rotating it to clink the ice against the sides of the glass softly. The sounds making Waylon flinch and freeze up, only to be harshly jerked by the leash and nearly choked in the process. The man looked immaculate as per usual with his hair slicked back nicely and his eyes reading over a recent status report on their latest shipments.

 

Upon seeing the twin and his pet enter, Jeremy tossed the stack of papers onto the coffee table and unfolded his legs. The leash was passed over to the boss who tugged hard to force Waylon into the narrow gap between the coffee table and his legs. He waited for the twin to leave before pressing the tip of his expensive designer shoes down on Waylon’s member and grinding against it. Pale blue eyes widened as his jaw clenched, teeth grinding at the sensitivity and pain.

 

“Did you learn your lesson pet?” Jeremy asked as his foot moved up and down against the head of his exposed member. The divots in the treads of his shoe prints catching on his skin and causing rough friction but he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. His back was pressed into the table already and Jeremy’s knees caged him in. Icy blue eyes leveled on him as the hand not holding the leash reached out and curled around his throat. A perfect fit over the bruises on his bared throat. Jeremy kept the leash tight to force Waylon to lean forward into his hold. Fingers digging into exposed flesh around the collar. Waylon parted his lips and gasped.

 

Pale blue eyes widening with fear that this man was going to kill him. That he was actually going to strangle him right here in the living room of his condo. ‘ _Of course he would, he’s responsible for hundreds of deaths. What’s one more?’_ The little voice piped up in the back of Waylon’s head. He felt the grip increase but Waylon didn’t move to stop him or pull away. He submitted to the truth. He was helpless and going to die at the hands of this man. If not today, then possibly tomorrow. He didn’t expect to survive this man and his attacks much longer. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. Small droplets raced down the sides of his face, hot and wet. It took him a few seconds to realize they were his tears. Dizziness swirled around him, threatening to topple his world, his lungs burned as he wheezed and gasped to refill them.

 

Then as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The hand released his throat and Jeremy sat back in the plump cushions of the couch. Waylon sucked in a deep gasp of air, his body going slack between the dark haired male’s legs. His shoulders trembling as he tried to calm himself and fill his lungs with the oxygen the desperately desired. His head hung, not even noticing as Jeremy unbuckled his belt and shifted his trousers open to expose his hard length rising up from the expensive dark fabric. He reached out, touching under Waylon’s chin to lift his head up, their eyes meeting. Waylon’s body stiffened, already knowing what was coming. “You have a job to do pet. Do it well.”

 

The leash pulled him forward, causing him to tumbled into the larger male’s thighs, his head resting beside the hard length. Waylon quickly corrected himself, closing his eyes as he started to lick and suckle along the shaft. The smell of high quality soap lingered on the man’s skin, a soft distraction from his task. Fingers curled into his hair and splayed throughout, running through the tangle of disheveled blonde locks before gripping them tightly. A silent command to get on with it.

 

Waylon adjusted, sitting up more as he took Jeremy’s entire length in, his throat relaxing around the mass of hard throbbing flesh. Occasionally the hand in his hair would tighten and push his head down so his nose would be buried in the nest of dark pubic hairs at the base. He shuddered, swallowing around the thick heat, throat constricting around it before a satisfied groan would fall from Jeremy’s lips and he’d relax his hand enough to let Waylon continue to bob up and down in a steady pace. The grip would tighten near the edge, taking complete control of his head motions as he fucked Waylon’s throat raw until release.

 

He would pull Waylon off of his cock and give himself the last few pumps. Waylon did as he always does, head tipped back slightly, mouth open and eyes fixed on Jeremy’s lustful gaze as hot seed was purposely spurted across his face. It was like a game to Jeremy. To see just how shameful he could make Waylon look each time he came on his pet. And as always, he’s force Waylon to pose for a photo. This time several were taken, one being while Jeremy’s foot resumed rubbing against the blonde’s swollen and bruised manhood. Soft whimpers left Waylon’s throat and the tears increased from choking on Jeremy which only seemed to turn the man on even more. The seed had begun to cool by time he was permitted to clean himself off.

 

The weekend continued much the same as usual. Hours of torment, being bound and denied release while locked in that special dark doom. He was taken out only to please Jeremy with yet another blowjob. There would be more choking rather by the boss’s own bare hands or by the harsh pull of the leash. His most favorite way was making Waylon swallow his cock as he face fucked him repeatedly. Afterwards he would be tended to by Doctor Trager. It had become so routine for Waylon at this point that he didn’t even care and often didn’t last long after the abuse. His saving grace came late Sunday night when the good doctor came in to give him a nice dose of sleep at the end of a needle. It was the only time of the weekend he looked forward to. The mob doctor and his needle, as twisted as that seemed. He was more like Waylon’s angel of mercy by the end of the night.


	11. The Truth Won't Set You Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Blaire have a heart to heart and Miles goes to Eddie looking for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! Thank you! Thank you to all who have commented on my work so far and let me now what you all think. It means the world to me. 
> 
> i think i'm starting to feel the end of this because I really don't want it to end just yet. It's SOO much fun. But as a parting gift, since it's coming to a close, I would like to inform you all that I will have a bonus chapter at the end of the story. I know many of you would have liked to see some all out Blaire x Waylon action going on but due to the sake of the story and the reason Blaire did what he's been doing with Waylon, sadly we couldn't add it in. BUT fear not, the ending bonus will be full of juicy hardcore "deleted" scenes of Blaire and Waylon that i had originally planned from the beginning to be part of the story but scrapped it. So i will use it as a parting gift when this comes to a close. So even the the story is over, keep and eye out for the deleted edition. But that is still a few chapters off. We're almost there. Hang in there and enjoy!

Waylon was disturbed by how accustomed he has become to waking up in his apartment after being brutalized all weekend at Blaire’s condo. His clothing and bag were in their proper places as if everything had been some strange fucked up nightmare. But Waylon knew it wasn’t. He knew by the immense ache that enveloped his entire body and even wormed it’s way deep inside to places it shouldn’t touch. To places no one should touch but Waylon didn’t have that luxury. He felt out of it, a steady hum of jitters and a restlessness that burned in his veins.

 

He tried to get ready for work that morning, it was chilly out as the weather was growing colder which he was thankful for. Using a scarf to hide the deep purple bruising that was like a permanent imprint on his flesh from both Blaire’s hand and that accursed collar. His voice was nearly gone and his throat felt raw. He was in such bad shape, he could easily pass for being sick. The pallor of his skin certainly helped and the sleepless dark circles under his eyes did too.

 

He walked with a slight limp to his side, his hips and his knees ached. The skin rubbed raw and bruised from kneeling so much. He could hardly take a piss that morning between the pain and the swelling of his abused genitals. He swore he could see the imprint of Blaire’s fucking shoe on his poor manhood. A soft whimper left his chest as he tried his best to relieve himself then proceeded to shower and clean up the markings on his face and body. What couldn’t be covered with clothing had to take a nice heavy coating of concealer. He left his blonde locks hanging down in his face to help conceal some of it. They were getting long enough that it was to the point he might be able to pass for a woman, maybe. Between the stress and fussing over work and trying to get around Miles and Eddie without letting them know, he hadn’t had much time to worry about keeping up appearances other than covering up the evidence. He just hoped Jeremy would consider his debt paid up soon. He didn’t think he could take much more of this.

 

Waylon spent most of the day at work, hiding in his office. Miles had called his phone several times during the afternoon before he finally decided to text him back. The journalist was back in town and wanted to go out for a bit after work but Waylon was forced to decline. Telling his old friend that he had caught a cold and was just going to stay home. Miles offered to come over and help him feel better. Waylon was happy at that but at the same time felt immensely guilty as he made up some other excuse. Telling him he didn’t want to get him sick and that he’d just be sleeping most of the time anyway. It took some time before Miles finally gave in and told him if he needed anything, to call and he’d be there for him.

 

Waylon felt terrible for lying to his friend, repeatedly. It wasn’t like him to lie to Miles or anyone for that matter. He was a terrible liar, he knew it. He couldn’t even fib for pete’s sakes without giving away that he was being dishonest. He wasn’t sure how Miles could do it day in and day out for his job. Lying so easily to security and other folk, passing himself off as other people or organizations. He respected and admired his friend for that ability, especially since Miles lied for a living just to find the truth but he _always_ remained honest where Waylon was concerned. And here Waylon was, returning that honesty with complete lies. If he ever makes it out of this, he doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to face Miles again if/when he learns the truth.

 

Waylon spent the rest of the week making up excuses and avoiding Miles as much as possible. Purposely missing opportunities on top of declining all offers to go out with fellow coworkers for lunch or after work and trying to keep as far away from prying eyes as he possibly could. Especially the receptionist who was a bit too perceptive for her own good. He couldn’t use the lie that his ex-girlfriend did this to him again. It would be far too much to pin on poor sweet Lisa. Not to say she didn’t have an attitude and the ability to wring his neck if she wanted to, it just wasn’t in her nature to carry out those types of desires. God knows she probably wanted to in the past.

  
  


As the week stretched on and Waylon seemed to be absent for a majority of it aside from a strange text on Monday afternoon from the male to Eddie’s phone stating he was ill and unable to come by for a couple days. Eddie had texted back several times only to be met with silence. He was worried, of course and any attempt to call the young technician was thwarted with a voice mail and he was far too busy to leave and try to get a hold of him face to face. Especially if he didn’t know if Waylon was even home or not. He was working up the courage to go see Waylon during a lunch break that Thursday afternoon since he was caught up and slightly ahead of his work orders. Having put in a couple of all nighters to get the jump on things.

 

Eddie was fixing a display veil near the front desk, his hands working away at the sequins that dazzled on the sheer material and stopping a moment to sip at the travel mug of hot tea that rested on his work space. He adored the gift from Waylon, finding himself using it most days and nights. It helped ease him when he was stressing over an order and it’s deadline. He had just put the veil on it’s mannequin display when the chime of the entry bell rang through the quiet building.

 

The tailor looked up with a smile to greet his customer when a cold chill surged through his body. His deep blue orbs fell on a pair of ice cold eyes with a gaze that held all the same. The expensive black suit stuck out against the pale backdrop of pristine white gowns and mannequins. He could smell the cologne heavy on the air, corrupting the soft floral scent that permeated the building on an average day. “Well, this place is looking much more pleasant.” The tone was indifferent and harsh, opposing the meaning of his words with a scowl that made it seem like he was staring at a dumpster instead of a highly rated bridal shop.

 

“Can I help you with something Mr. Blaire?” Eddie spoke through gritted teeth. His hands tucked behind his back to pass on a casual stance of a waiting attendant, instead hiding the balled fists that clenched uneasily. Never in his life has he struggled to put on a pleasant face like he was at that moment. His eyes watching the man move about the shop as if he owned the place and was simply checking on an investment.

 

“Actually, I think you can.” Blaire spoke firmly, turning towards a specific gown that stood in the window display. “Seventeen years.” Blaire began. “For seventeen years the same exact gown has stood in that display like a sentinel for the shop. Your mother’s first gown she ever made. The prime display piece that showed the whole town what she was capable of.” He turned casually to face Eddie. Noticing the hard crease in the tailor’s features as he frowned.

“Yes, what are you getting at?” Eddie asked cautiously, watching every movement from the man. Expecting trouble from his presence because since when does Jeremy Blaire’s presence harbor anything good? He was like a messenger for death with everywhere he goes.

 

“That gown in the display is not the same one that has been there for so many years.” Jeremy smiled. “You changed it.”

 

“So? This is my shop now and I decided to put my best piece up. Thought it was time to showcase what I can do.” Eddie shifted in place, moving around behind the desk so there was space between them. Keeping a very safe distance from the man.

 

“Hm.” Jeremy hummed then turned back to the display. “I’d like to purchase it.”

 

Eddie’s jaw nearly dropped, his eyes widening at that. He thought he had misheard the man. “P-purchase it? Are you getting married?” He asked in disbelief. “If so, there are many more gowns to choose from. I’m afraid that specific gown is tailored for only one person-”

 

“You mean Waylon Park?” Jeremy cut him off. “I’m well aware of that.” He regarded the surprise in Eddie’s expression before the tailor could catch himself and hide his emotions behind a professional facade. Jeremy scoffed. “Please, it’s obvious Gluskin. That gown didn’t change until you were sheltering Waylon Park in your establishment. The size of the gown and the.. _.flatness_...of the bodice gives away that it’s not for any bride to be.”

 

It surprised Eddie how women overlook the size of the chest when they compliment it but here a man noticed it right away. It was somewhat disturbing to say the least but that was the least of Eddie’s worries. “If you know that, why would you want to purchase it?”

 

“Call it a business investment. I know somebody who could fit it for a nice little get together I’m having this weekend. I want them to look their best and where better to find what I need other then the best.” Jeremy chuckled. “Of course, we both know you’re the best at more than just wedding gowns, don’t we Gluskin? It’s the only reason you got to keep this pitiful shop in the first place.”

 

Eddie was on the verge of seeing red when those words struck like ice in his veins. He stepped back as if physically shoved by the sharpened words. A reminder of the past and something he wanted nothing to do with anymore. “Don’t.” Eddie warned, his hands at his sides, chest puffed out a bit more in an attempt to seem threatening, the anger twisting that kind facade until it shattered under the pressure to an angry snarl.

 

Jeremy seemed unphased by the request and reached out to touch the gown, curling his fingers around the soft linen fabric and smiling at the feel of the bodice. Eddie nearly lost it, seeing this man touching his dress. The dress for Waylon. For his sweet darling. This same man who has been tormenting the poor boy with his harassments and his goons stalking him. Making him fear for his life and sanity. If he didn’t know any better, he would vault over the desk and take on the man right then and there, where no witnesses were. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to move an inch. Jeremy Blaire wasn’t just a man, he was the face of an entire organization too powerful to so much as look at side ways without the threat of ending up in a ditch somewhere. “Sell this gown to me, and I’ll forget the past transgressions. Murkoff won’t call on you for anymore business and you’ll be untouchable from now on.” Jeremy bargained. “I’ll put your name in _the book._ Make sure it follows the generations to come. That’s even if you _have_ a legacy.”

 

Eddie knew what _the book_ was. It was a universal red ledger of names and families who paid a debt or did work for the Syndicate. The rare few who were lucky enough to be added by high class members were deemed untouchable. Their businesses and family members weren’t to be messed with. If anyone went against the _Red Ledger_ , they were put into the _Black Book_ . From there, well, there’s a reason it’s called the **_Black_ ** book. For some it meant protection from the Syndicate by the Syndicate. For others, it was a permanent stain that marked them should any one of authority get a hold of it. It had all their little secrets and dirty business marked up in it. Including Eddie’s own work.

 

Eddie bit the inside of his lip, hard enough to taste blood. He couldn’t deny an opportunity like that. He considered the offer more closely and sighed, giving in. “I can always make another I guess.” He still had all of the measurements tucked away so he didn’t have to worry about losing the one piece. He just hoped with this promise, he could use the Red Ledger to his advantage and put Waylon on it, that’s if he can get a hold of the blonde male. He hoped to further the relationship between them and last he knew, Waylon didn’t seem to mind his advances. He seemed somewhat considerate of them and even returned it with affections of his own. They weren’t physical but Eddie was hoping to make it work out. That one day that dress would come in handy. He shook the thought out of his head, that’s all it was was a fantasy but it didn’t hurt to indulge in the imaginary for a short bit.

 

“Splendid. I knew you were a smart man Eddie. I can always count on you.” The smile he gave the tailor could make snakes squirm and flee. It was made Eddie increasingly uneasy. He watched as Eddie collected the gown and carefully placed it into a hanging sleeve to protect it from getting dirty. Blaire glanced over at the veil Eddie had been working on on the desk. “If you could, I’d like to buy that veil as well. The one right there.” Eddie’s eyes turned to spot the display veil. It wasn’t anything on order and he had actually been working on it as a complimentary piece to place beside Waylon’s dress. He sighed and put that in a special container to keep it clean and neatly folded.

 

“This girl of yours must be special.” Eddie grunted, slight annoyance leaking into his tone.

 

“She’s not much. A cute little blonde number without much to offer in the looks department but she knows how to please and obey.” the mafia boss was already on his phone, texting away and answering important messages.

 

“Sounds more like a pet to me.” Eddie joked, it was strained and tense.

 

Jeremy gave him a look, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “Of course, what else would she be good for? Sucking cock and taking it is all she’s meant for.”

 

Eddie grimaced at those words. His body tense as they echoed the words of his father. Only they weren’t used to describe his mother. Eddie’s eyes narrowed into a dark glare that bordered on murderous as he handed the merchandise over. Jeremy appeared unphased by the expression and tossed a stack of hundreds neatly folded into an expensive metal clip with intricate designs on it. “This should be more than enough to cover it. Consider it a donation to your services.” He held the bag over his shoulder like a male model would an expensive jacket in a magazine ad. “I’ll be sure to add you to the book. Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

It was but a moment more and the bell chimed at the entrance to signal the unsavory man had left. Eddie gave a short nod, finding no pleasure at all in this encounter. He sneered at the pile of cash on his desk and swatted it and the mannequin away. Watching both hit the floor with a thud.

  


It was mid afternoon and Eddie was preparing for a lunch break. He had finally calmed down after Blaire’s surprise visit and was working diligently on the orders of the day. He was working hard on a new veil for a gown that he had finished the night before. The order had decided on one kind of veil which Eddie had already had made and displayed in the shop but the woman decided she’d rather have a custom one made instead to match her gown better. It meant more money for Eddie and it was quick and easy work for him. He was finishing up a few last details before calling a break when the bell chimed in the front. He didn’t even look up from the desk as he greeted. “Welcome to Gluskin Bridal! I’ll be with you in one moment.”

 

“Eddie Gluskin I presume?” The voice was from a male, deep and firm. Eddie’s eyes snapped up to find a brunette male standing over him with tired green eyes. He looked miserable but still managed to hold himself with energy around him. He had on a dark brown leather jacket, zipped up to fend off the cold chill of the outdoors.

 

“Yes. Can I help you with something sir?” Eddie was cautious, sitting back with proper posture and his service with a smile facade fixed firmly in place.

 

“Miles Upshur, I’m a friend of Waylon’s.” The male introduced himself, holding out a hand to the man in greeting. Eddie took it, his expression remaining stoic but concern flitted in his eyes for but a moment. “I was hoping to ask you a few questions about him.”

 

Eddie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Ask me? If you’re his friend, why wouldn’t you ask him?”

 

“Because he’s avoiding me for some reason. He won’t answer my calls.” Miles grumbled.

 

Eddie stood up from his spot, just to be on even ground with the male. “And why would that be my concern? He won’t answer mine either. Just the occasional text.”

 

“I was hoping you could help me out. Maybe you noticed any strange behavior the last week or so. He said he’s been spending the last couple weekends here with you. I’ve been-”

 

“With me?” Eddie cut Miles off. “He hasn’t spent the night here in a couple weeks. He told me he’s been staying with you.”

 

“Me? I’ve been gone the entire weekend for work. And the weekend before that he was supposed to come over but he said he was here with you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed on Eddie as if expecting the taller male to be lying. Eddie seemed to return the look before something dawned on both of them. “The last time I saw him, he had come here to see you last week.”

 

“That was the last time I saw him as well. He brought me a gift but wouldn’t stay long.” Eddie gestured towards the travel mug of tea on his desk. Miles recognized it instantly and gave a short hum of understanding. “He seemed in poor health. Hasn’t been looking very good and he’s flighty. More so than usual.”

 

“So I’m not the only one who noticed.” Miles commented bluntly. He cast a look at the empty display by the window. “Hey, where did that dress go? You know, the one with no boob room?”

 

“Jesus, is that all men see when they look at wedding dresses? How much space there is for cleavage?” Eddie blurted in slight anger as the reminder of Jeremy flickered in his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed a slow exhale. “It was sold this morning.”

 

“To who?” Miles asked curiously. “I doubt any girl would buy it. The body was all awkward.”

 

“Does that really matter? I’ve made gowns for all sorts of body types.” Eddie snapped.

 

Miles turned his gaze back to the tailor and raised a brow. “Does that include men as well?”

 

Eddie opened his mouth then fell silent. He glared at Miles for a moment. “What makes you think that?”

 

Miles chuckled at the reaction he got, seeing the stoic facade break into a wondrous range of emotions. He never got tired of that with his job. “Because Waylon has worn a dress before. In college, we did a drag pub crawl. Guys wore dresses and followed the drag queen route and got hammered. It looks a lot like the dress Waylon wore. Not at all like any gowns I’ve seen for women.”

 

“Seen quite a few gowns, have you?” Eddie raised a brow, crossing his arms in front of himself.

 

Miles hummed in affirmation. “I have. Not going to say much more on that. I’m worried about Waylon. He’s in quite a bit of trouble and I know you know just how deep it is otherwise you wouldn’t have helped him like you did.”

 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I know. But he’s been keeping me at arm’s length since he went back home. He seems worse. I don’t know if it’s the paranoia that Blaire might swoop in on him or if something is going on that he’s not telling us about.”

 

“My thoughts exactly.” Miles sighed, looking down at the time on his phone and double checking to see if he’s had any more messages from Waylon. “If you hear anything more or think of anything that might be useful, just call me.” He dug into his pocket and handed over a business card that read. **_Miles Upshur: Journalist_ ** with his email and phone number on it. It was pretty basic, self-made obviously. “I’m going to try getting a hold of him tonight after work. See if i can speak with him since he won’t answer either of us.”

 

“Let me know if you find anything.” Eddie reached back to his desk and found the display of business cards he kept out for customers. His were much more professional in design and had a lot more listed with raised lettering and an image of a bridal gown on the front. “I’m worried about him.”

 

“Sure thing.” Miles took the card and stuffed it into his pocket, giving Eddie a wink and a smile before turning to leave. Leaving Eddie to question just how far Waylon was caught up in all of this and even doubting Blaire’s surprise visit of its harmless appearance. The purchase of the dress was questionable and completely out of place for someone like Jeremy Blaire. Eddie didn’t think anyone could love that man, not even his own mother let alone some poor girl. Whatever was going on between this girl and him, it probably wasn’t anything legal or consensual knowing Jeremy and Murkoff’s reputation overall.


	12. Traded Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is on the hunt. Miles is chasing the truth but Waylon falls into the wrong hands once again. The shit is hitting the fan. Trager is being creepy as usual.

Later that evening, the jeep rolled up to park across the street from Waylon’s place of work. Miles double checked the time, making certain he had arrived early enough that Waylon wouldn’t leave without him spotting him. He had half an hour to kill and he spent it going through many different scenarios of how their talk would play out. What he would say, how he would address his friend in a way that would demand Waylon answer him honestly without him feeling the need to become defensive. Waylon wasn’t the type to be defensive in the first place, always the meek submissive one. That fact made Miles worry about him even more. His inability to resist when authority is shown. It was exactly why Blaire sunk his claws into him so easily. Miles thought that with him around, Waylon had someone to turn to for help but maybe Blaire was just too much for Waylon.

 

Miles ran his fingers through his messy brown locks and cursed loudly, at himself and at others. But not at Waylon. He didn’t blame Waylon. How could he? Waylon had done the right thing and asked for help. He came to Miles when he needed him. If Waylon was in worse shape now, it was because he was inadequate at protecting his friend. Miles didn’t see any fault lying in the blonde’s court. If anything were to happen to him..

 

Miles shook his head and dismissed the thought before motion caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He glanced up just in time to see his friend leave the business. Waving a farewell to the receptionist and heading down the street. The journalist noticed something off in how he was moving. It was awkward and unusually slow. As if something were wrong. He started up his jeep, ready to catch up when Waylon stopped in his tracks. His attention snapped down to his phone and anything left in Waylon’s posture that held a natural indifference had fled. Waylon seemed to freeze up and that’s when he noticed the dark vehicle a ways down the sidewalk.

 

There was movement as a large form climbed out of the vehicle and went around to hold the door open. Waylon shifted his bag on his shoulder and slowly approached. Miles wanted to jump out and scream at Waylon not to but he was too late as his friend shifted into the vehicle. Miles recognized the lunkheaded form to be one of the guys that had followed them into the diner and the same ugly mugs he spotted in photos connected to Murkoff. ”For fuck’s sake Waylon.” Miles growled as he started moving the jeep along and pulled out to follow the dark SUV.

 

It led him from the quaint little side business district down through to the heart of the city. It was a long way to come just for a little heart to heart but then again, Blaire was always one for the dramatics. Miles kept a decent distance with hopes not to arouse suspicion and followed them until they pulled up to the front of a skyscraper in the heart of the city. It looked like a series of privately owned condos amidst renovations.

  


Waylon was terrified in the presence of the twins. This was the first time Jeremy had sent him a text during the workweek and demanded he come to see him. Normally he waited one more day and took him on the weekend. A time when nobody noticed his absence. The route today was far different from normal. Instead of pulling up to the front, the Twins went around to the back of the building where an underground parking structure sat, easily concealed from the main roads and cleverly hidden behind rows of decorative hedges and fencing that added to the lure of the building. They went down to the structure and continued until they were surrounded by the fluorescent lighting and the sounds from outside were snuffed out. It was dead silent.

 

They sat quietly for some time, keeping Waylon inside the SUV and making no move to get out and neither of them spoke to each other. The one in the front passenger seat had been sending messages back and forth on his phone, possibly to Mr. Blaire. After about twenty or so minutes, they climbed out of the SUV, the bald headed Twin had pulled him out and held him firmly by the shoulders, removing his bag and phone from his person and handcuffing his wrists together. A familiar dark suited form and a tall man with silver hair emerged from the elevator nearby. The doctor carried his briefcase with him as per usual and Jeremy looked annoyed as he adjusted his tie. Waylon was growing increasingly nervous. The cold chill of outside licking at his exposed skin around his neck and wrists. Night was falling quickly with the colder weather and the parking structure was growing increasingly unwelcoming.

 

“It would seem you’ve brought a guest with you Waylon. This invitation didn’t permit a plus one.” Waylon frowned at those words, his brows creasing in confusion. It wasn’t until another set of dark suited men that looked like security or other Murkoff members came around the corner dragging a kicking and cursing Miles in their grasp. His nose was bleeding and his clothing was in disarray. His wrists bound in front of him with zip ties as he was forced to kneel before the blonde male and the additional Murkoff members.

 

“Miles? What are you doing here?” Waylon was horrified to see his friend. His eyes wide as they met the fiery anger in emerald orbs. The tightness wound up in Waylon’s chest and it was far too hard to breath. He wanted to rush towards his friend but the Twins had a firm grasp on his form. “Let him go! Please, let him go. I’ve done everything you asked! You promised you wouldn’t harm him!” Waylon blurted at Jeremy.

 

Jeremy hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “You have and I did. I promised _I_ wouldn’t hurt him.” He gestured towards the doctor beside him.

 

Rick gave a devilish grin of pure delight as he was given permission. “Thank ya Jer.” He crossed the short distance between himself and Miles and opened up his briefcase to start looking for something specific.

 

“But-”

 

“But nothing. I promised no harm would come should he keep his nose out of our business. He walked into the lion’s den of his own accord.” Jeremy watched Waylon coldly. His stare narrowed on the blonde male and drinking in the despair that twisted up Waylon’s features. “Continue to obey and you will see him again.” Jeremy turned to Waylon more directly, taking a firm hold of Waylon’s jaw in his hands and squeezing it tightly, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “Disobedience demands consequence. Your friend shall learn this firsthand. A taste of what prying gets him.”

 

There was a sound of “Ah-ha!” that came from the doctor as a set of large shears were brought out into the open, having been attached to a special strap inside the case. “Now, this will only hurt a bit but don’t worry. I’m a doctor.” Trager gave a dark grin that would make the devil tuck his tail and run. Miles tensed as the two men grabbed his arms and forced them up.

 

One of the men pried his curled fists open to pull a couple fingers out for the shears. Jeremy held Waylon’s jaw firmly in place and forced him to witness the atrocity. His cold voice growling into his ear. “Watch pet. Don’t you dare close your eyes or I’ll force your friend to suffer more.” Miles fought against the men’s hold, shouldering into them and pulling away the best he could but he was grabbed up by the back of the neck and forced forward. Trager clamped the shears down on one of Miles’ fingers and there came a crack and agonizing screams erupted from Miles’ chest. Waylon’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened in sickening horror. He had never before heard Miles scream in such a way. It was hellish. He felt sickness swirling around inside him, his skin pale and dizziness rushing up. The world flip flopped around him as he swayed in place. Miles screamed as each finger was cut off at the end of the sheers. One on each hand. Miles’ attempts to escape ceased as his body went slack, chest heaving in quick gasping breaths and blood streaming across the floor. Trager stepped back to admire his work before Miles fell forward and upheaved the contents of his stomach to the concrete. Bile mixing with blood in a sickening display.

 

“Fucking christ Rick, I told you not to make a mess.” Jeremy cursed loudly, irritation forming in his tone.

 

Trager simply shrugged with the bloodied sheers in hand, waving them around as he spoke. “Sorry Jer but medicine isn’t exactly an exact science here. Some patients don’t respond well to certain treatments.” The doctor bellowed out a bark of laughter as he dropped the shears down by his briefcase and took a hold of Miles’ brown locks in his fist to pry the journalist’s head up. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get any words out, movement shifted in the corner of the doctor’s brown eyes. Jeremy noticed it as well and turned just in time to see Waylon collapse to the floor with a thunk. “Well, that was uncalled for.” Trager sighed.

 

Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose in increasing anger at how this scene was playing out and it wasn’t at all like he had planned it. “Just take care of them. You can keep the rat.” He grumbled to Trager before gesturing at the twins. “Get him the fuck upstairs. I need to prepare.” The twins rushed to fulfill the commands while the other guards moved to take Miles’ limp form. The man was obviously out of it but his gaze was fixed on Waylon’s unconscious form. He appeared to be in shock which the doctor didn’t mind. Meant he was easier to handle. “Somebody clean this fucking mess up while you’re at it!” The crime boss growled before turning back to the elevator and leaving the work to be taken care of.

  


Eddie was worried sick about Waylon and was growing increasingly more worried as time went by and he hadn’t heard anything more from Miles. He tried calling both of them only to get a both numbers going directly to voicemail. He tried to give it a rest for the night and picked it right back up the next morning. After about an hour, he tried to relax and not worry so much, focusing the best he could on his gown orders but by noon, he couldn’t take it anymore. He searched for the number to Waylon’s work and made a call to the front desk. A young woman answered, relaying the designated greeting for the company before asking his needs. “Hello, my name’s Eddie Gluskin, I’m a friend of Mr. Waylon Park. I was hoping you could help me since I’ve run into a spot of trouble with contacting him. Is he there by any chance?”

 

“Oh, Waylon? I’m sorry but he is not.” The girl spoke softly, her tone a little weary.

 

“Do you know when he might be back?” Eddie inquired, keeping his tone professional. Carefully measured and friendly.

 

There was a pause before a sigh came on the other end. “To be honest Mr. Gluskin, I don’t think he will be back. There was a call this morning from a company saying Waylon had taken on a contract with their corporation and won’t be working for us anymore.”

 

Eddie felt something tighten up in his chest and his heart started to race. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak. “What? What company? Do you recall?”

 

“Um, something weird that started with an M. Mur-something or other. Not anything I’ve heard before.” There was some rustling as if she were looking through papers to find the source of the information.

 

“Murkoff?”

 

“Yes! You know it?” She blurted before catching herself.

 

“Sadly yes. Thank you for your time miss. Have a good day.” He hung up soon after, not allowing her a chance to respond. His hands were shaking as he placed his phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to lean against the desk, feeling sick to his stomach. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles turning white, the bare skin stretched to their limit to better show off the scarring that lie beneath the gloves he wore each and every day. He felt a familiar pull in his chest, a dark urge that he had been hiding for a long time. Trying to suffocate it and smother it with this kindly tender charade he’s put on for years. He knew his past couldn’t be so easily forgotten. Jeremy Blaire was a parasite on his life. A plague that infected everything in his vicinity. Why would he think that Waylon would be lucky enough to go untouched by this blight on his world. He was a fool for thinking there was a chance that the sweet young man could escape it. It just made him more appetizing prey for the wolf and Eddie’ wasn’t keen on losing another of his flock to that man.

 

He waited only briefly to try and contact Miles. When the man failed to answer his phone for the twentieth time that day, he gave up. Far too impatient for his own good, especially knowing what Jeremy Blaire was capable off. He sent an email to inform the journalist of what he found out and where he was going, hoping he would see it soon then not long after, he closed shop and left to head downtown. Knowing Blaire, the man had something special planned for Waylon and Eddie was just hoping he’d get there in time to stop whatever fresh hell awaited his friend.

  
  


Miles should have known better then the let his guard down even for a moment. He was in such a hurry to save Waylon that he overlooked the security system watching his every move. It didn’t take long for him to be apprehended and he was deeply ashamed of that fact. Even more worse was the mad doctor to be that took his fingers but the pain hardly registered when he saw Waylon hit the ground. Everything was such a blur after that. He saw them pull his friend away but he couldn’t move to react. He didn’t have the energy or the ability. He felt himself being dragged away and the heavy darkness shrouding his features from a blackened hood kept him blind to what lie in wait. He felt the cold licking at his skin as he was stripped of his bloodied clothing right down to nothing. His hands were bandaged and bound above his head as he was placed onto a strange cold metal surface. He hadn’t realized when he had lost consciousness or how long time had passed before he awoke. Blinking up at that damned hood once more and the darkness it created.

 

Only when the hood was pulled off did he realize he was on an examination table but it wasn’t like a normal medical table. It was outfitted like the kind found in mental hospitals and used for specialized treatments on violent patients.  Miles tested the bindings, his green eyes turning up to find the silhouette of the doctor standing nearby as he prepared for his session with his new plaything.

 

He froze, staring the form down, noticing the black apron tied around the man’s waist and his white button up shirt had the sleeves rolled up neatly and pinned in place just below his elbow. The wire rimmed glasses were pushed back up on the bridge of his beaky nose as he examined each tool one by one on the metal cart. The doctor had already dawned a set of blue gloves and finished up his preparations as he spoke. “It’s a shame really, all this work for a broken toy.” There was a soft chuckle before dull brown eyes turned to fix on Miles. “Removing your fingers was fun and all but I’m itching for something deeper. Something more lively.” He moved to the table, standing beside Miles and placing his fingers through the mess of hair. Some of the locks were matted and blood stained.

 

The doctor soon lowered himself, letting go of Miles’ hair to focus on something beneath the table. Fiddling around with something metallic before a soft hiss ushered out. When Trager rose back up to his feet, Miles noticed an oxygen mask with a set of clear plastic tubing coming from it. The mask was strapped over his face and situated comfortably to encompass his mouth and nose with a tight seal so none escaped. “Deep breathes. There you go, take it all in.” The doctor directed with a light hum.

 

The gas smelled odd, almost chalky with a soft sweetness around it. His face started to tingle a bit and his body felt like it was buzzing with static as seconds ticked by and each breath filled his lungs with it. His emerald eyes widened as the feeling raced across his body and settled into his entire form making it feel heavy and his mind was laced with fog. He opened his mouth to speak but found trouble in forming coherent thoughts. Everything took effort and the doctor noticed this. A devilish smile spreading across his features as he hummed pleasantly. Walking back over to his cart and turning it around to sit beside the table. “Good boy. Keep following orders like that and this will go smoothly. Painless in fact, well, that is for me. For you, it might be pleasant or unpleasant. Depends on the type of person you are. Maybe a little pain is exactly what you need. Get a buzz in your loins.” The doctor rambled on to Miles’ dismay. The nasally tone of voice was like nails on a chalkboard to him and he would sooner be knocked out for this interaction if only to flee the obnoxious voice.

 

“Now to start, let's do some basic stimulation exercises. Doesn’t that sound fun? I think that sounds fun. You look like a healthy young buck. Plenty of life in those nerves of yours.” He rustled around with some tools until he flicked some switches on a small black box like device with dials and buttons on it. The dials had number and different level indicators with colored lights that went from green to yellow to red. That made Miles uneasy but the gas made moving hard to do. His body was sluggish and having trouble obeying simple commands. Trager carefully rearranged Miles’ legs to fit into a set of stirrups that were shifted as part of the table. He spread his legs apart and admired the clear vantage point for his intended treatment.

 

There was a bottle of cold lubricant sitting beside the device on the cart  that the doctor used to coat his gloved fingers on one hand before situating himself between the male’s legs. “I can see this isn’t your first time buddy.” The chuckle that came from his chest was wrong and mocking. Almost superior in a way that made Miles’ skin crawl with disgust. Before he could muster a sound of response, two gloved fingers crammed their way inside his entrance without a moment’s warning. A muffled yelp came from his chest as he struggled fruitlessly against the bindings. His legs pulling on the stirrups and straps, toes curling and flexing in the process.

 

A slew of curses fumbled through quivering lips and emerald eyes squeezed shut as pain and discomfort spread throughout. The doctor spread his fingers, prying apart the tight ring of muscle to make way for one of the probe like metallic tips that were connected to the black box by a set of colored wires. The probe being used was considerably larger than the two fingers, about the size of a medium sized butt plug but instead of plugging him up, it was pushed deep inside his ass until it was flush against his prostate.

 

The same process followed with a smaller probe that was long, sleek and slender with a bulb tip where wires met. Trager lubricated the probe thoroughly and pressed the nozzle tip of the bottle against Miles’ flaccid shaft, pushing inside the slit and squirting a generous amount of lubricant inside. It was uncomfortable and had Miles struggling further before the slender probe was forced inside his tight urethra. Pain burned in his member as something far too big was pushed without warning inside. The doctor cackled at the reactions he got from his prey and grinned. “The tests haven’t even begun and I’m already receiving such lovely responses. This is going to be a wonderful time, I can tell.” He seemed far too giddy for Miles liking.

 

“Now, hold still and try not to tense up. I want you to be honest in your responses. No cheating. After all, this is a test.” The doctor chuckled at his own little joke which Miles found no enjoyment from whatsoever. Trager hummed excitedly as he turned to the box and started fidgeting with dials until his fingers paused over a large switch on the top that was clearly labeled POWER. He gave Miles’ a mocking apologetic smile as he spoke. "You will feel a bit of a shock but don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”


	13. The Doctor Will See You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie to the rescue and Miles is fucked. (Literally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait everyone. Thank you so much for being so patient with me. This is the next chapter and it is winding down quickly. I was having a few reservations about finishing it because this fic is my baby but it must greet it's end and I intend that to be soon. I aim to work on this for the next week or two until it is over. (And i have a trip away that will allow me to do just that. )
> 
> Also as a side note: After the final chapter is laid out, stay tuned because I have a fan service chapter planned because there was ALOT of stuff I wanted to do with Waylon and Jeremy that I never got around to doing because it would interfere with the plot. But as a thank you to all of you who have stuck by me all the way through this piece, I will give you everything I had planned for those kinky little shits to do.  
> (Blaire/Way is my guilty pleasure)
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment at the end to let me know what you thought about this chapter. It is a little slow and uneasy compared to the others since I'm a little rusty with this story but feedback is my motivation to keep cranking out content and it just is super nice. Write a few lines or write me a book report, I love it all! Thank you!

Eddie pulled up to the property just as night had fallen, shrouding much of it in shadows and lit only by a couple security lights and street lamps outside. Eddie parked his truck down the street a little ways, tucked around the corner and out of sight before making his way towards the property. He stopped just outside the boundary lines, looking up at the fences and around at the surrounding hedge lines. The property had changed a lot since he was last here. Back when it was a small two story structure with the parking garage below it. It used to be a community parking area but now it was private property. There was only one way in and out of the building through the garage aside from a maintenance stairwell that worked around the back. That was the place Eddie was aiming to go for. He gave another quick glance, taking note of the security camera, noticing there were a couple more added along with the others. Newer more updated versions more keen to hit on body temperature as well as movement. The larger male wasn’t at all fond of those types but he learned a few tricks around them.

 

He gave the surroundings another look before shrugging off his jacket, warding off the colder weather that came about with the loss of the sun and draped it over the tips of the fence. It wasn’t good for the material and Eddie mourned the destruction of his favorite jacket but he was far more concerned with Waylon’s safety to mind it. He placed his feet firmly on the base of the exterior, finding a good grip then reached up with his gloved hands and with one smooth movement, he was able to vault over the top, nearly losing his grip on the other side as he dropped down with a thunk. He shuddered when the momentum sent shocks up his legs that made him wince. “Been a long time since I’ve had to do that.” He mumbled, rubbing at his knees and mourning the fact his age was already catching up to him.

 

He grabbed the jacket from the fence and tugged it back on, using the dark material to shelter him in the shadows as he hurried with long strides towards the wall alongside the structure. Working his way around to the rear but pausing long enough to spot the camera oscillating back and forth in a slow 240 degree rotation. He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet and fiddling around before he drew a card made of a thin piece of metal. One side was sharpened as a sly blade but the other end was flat. Beside it was a two pronged tweezer like piece. He watched the camera, waiting for it to turn back away from him before rushing over to the door, Slipping the prongs into the lock while the flat card like object squeezed between the frame, working quickly, his eyes darting up occasionally to check the camera, seeing it start back his direction. He bit his lip and cursed how rusty he was with all of this before a heavenly click came and the lock was free. He slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind himself in time to avoid detection. Pausing just inside the doorway to look around when voices could be heard down the stairwell from the parking garage below. Somebody was standing in the entryway with the door open,a grumbling of conversation echoing up.

 

“The boy is trouble.” A low toned voice huffed out in annoyance. A voice Eddie recognized as the twins. The largest of the two to be specific.

 

“The journalist?” The other met his same droning tone. There was the sound of scraping across the concrete. The wet slosh of water. “Troublesome, yes.”

 

“The Doc is happy.”

 

“Yes but Mr. Blaire is not.”

 

“He will be soon.” There was an eerie creaking of the door. “His guests will be here soon.”

 

There was a pause, a bang of something knocking against the door. “He’s preparing his pet.”

 

“Yes along with all the others. Doctor Trager has been busy.”

 

“He will be longer with his new toy.” There was a breathy sound as they hummed in agreement. Eddie shifted on the stairs, hearing one of the men stepping away from the door and letting it close behind them. He breathed a soft sigh and turned his attention up towards the next levels. He hadn’t anticipated that Miles would be caught up in all this but he would need to get a hold of the journalist first and foremost. Blaire wouldn’t harm Waylon, at least not right away. But Eddie knew Dr. Trager and his methods. He’d be lucky if the journalist was still in one piece. If his memory was correct, the Doc had the whole third floor to himself. The lower floor was the lobby then a meeting room where transactions were set up. Then Trager’s personal floor where he handled all the “merchandise” for preparation. That’s just as long as Murkoff hadn’t changed the blueprints since Eddie last saw them.

 

He couldn’t risk the elevator yet so he was forced to take the stairs. Silently cursing all the years between back then and now. Missing the days when he was a spry young buck with boundless energy.

  


 

 

 

Miles cried out as the jolts of electricity arched through his body once again. This test felt like it was going on forever but lasted only several minutes. Each jolt stimulating his prostate but he was far too plugged up with the probes for any release. Making him feel even more pent up. His body jerked and trembled as he was forced over into a full body dry orgasm. His eyes prickled with tears forming at the corners. The emerald orbs red and irritated slightly from the sharp jolts. His wrists pulling against the restraints but his body was sluggish and heavy. Every move was clumsy and further hindered by the straps. Sweat glistened across his skin as the doctor’s gloved fingers spread over his abdomen. The click of the machine followed, the low hum of it faded out as it was shut off but the probes remained deep inside him. The urethral one had started to slip out a little bit, rising up out of his slit only for the doctor to push it back down with his free hand causing Miles’ hips to jerk up, pressing into the hand against his skin. A stifled moan leaving his lips.

 

“Your sensitivity is magnificent. Your body is well kept physically.” The fingers pressed across the musculature of the journalist’s abdomen and torso. Feeling out every dip of flesh and bone, spreading across his rib cage and feeling the bones. “A healthy specimen. You’ll last much longer then they did.” His free hand moved from Miles’ shaft to roam over his legs, feeling out the quivering muscles flexing and bulging within. “You’ve got the signs of a runner. Track team in high school I’m guessing.” He pressed his thumb over the journalist’s knees, examining the slight difference in them, feeling the wear and tear on the joints and the way they are slightly more enlarged than an average person’s knee joints. He hummed to himself before offering a chuckle of amusement as a thought crossed his mind. “No worries, you won’t be needing them much longer.”

 

The hand on the journalist’s leg moved back up to Miles’ hips, feeling along his pelvis as he examined the male. Rolling his palms against the joints, drawing a gasp from Miles’ lips. The journalist shivered, his emerald orbs turned towards the doctor, staring down at him with disgust and disdain. The flickering of fear layering right beneath it. The elder man’s lips twitched up into a smile as he purred. “How about we give your hips a bit of a work out? Huh, would you like that? Sure you would. Your the athletic type. Always rearing for a bit of a burn.” His words punctuated by the object plugging up the journalist’s entrance being pulled out with a wet suction like sound. Miles gasped, squirming in the restraints as his abused hole twitched and puckered with the emptiness. There came the sound of movement, the growl of a zipper and clank of belt buckles shuddering from movement. Before the heat pressed up against him. “There’s going to be a slight bit of discomfort but don’t worry. I think you can handle it just fine.” He hummed. Miles squeezed his eyes shut before his entrance was forced to stretch around the new addition. One that was much hotter and more filling than the last.

 

“Good elasticity.” The doctor hummed, pushing in all the way before pausing, watching the journalist’s eyes screw shut before drawing back and snapping his hips backup against his rear, sending the form jerking on the table. A sharp cry from behind the mask as his shaft trembled, twitching with every motion. Another snap of hips up into him, grinding in place as Rick teased his ‘patient’. Watching the reaction with a devilish smirk, lips pulled wide across his features. “I understand there may be some discomfort but you’re just a little out of practice. Don’t worry. I won’t judge.”

 

Miles’ wrists tugged on the restraints as the doctor began a slow deep pace, watching the shaft twitch with each strong push inside. The little urethral probe rising up slowly, falling out of the slit only for Rick to press his thumb over it. Sinking it right back down into the other end of the bundle of nerves, forcing another sharp sound from Miles’ lips. It was hard to tell if it was in pain or pleasure but his member didn’t seem to feel the same conflict as it swelled and trembled with need. Small pearlescent beads bubbling up with each action, slipping around the plug in the brief moments of freedom before being forced back inside. His fingers, well, what was left of them curled into tight balls as his back arched, feeling another strong thrust. The pace increasing as the doctor’s own patience was wearing thin. His hands gripped the male’s hips tightly, pressing them down into the table as he groaned. “You’re really making it hard on me buddy. You’re clamping down too much. Maybe you need a little help.” He pulled out of Miles, reaching over to flick the switch to the small machine and watching as the journalist squirmed and struggled wildly with each jolt of electricity going to his prostate.

 

His lips parted, panting heavily between the screams, conflicting sensations of pleasure and pain swirling together into one confusion tidal wave that drove the journalist into another orgasm. His body relaxing as the switch was flipped off and the doctor resumed his place inside his ‘patient’. The feeling was much more relaxed after the second orgasm, allowing an easy slide with the lubricant still covering his velvety heated walls. The doctor reached over, placing one hand on Miles’ thigh while another plucked a metal instrument from the cart. He held it with practiced ease, as if it were an extension of his fingers, feeling them caress over the journalist’s abdomen. The cold metal pressing against his heated skin. The droplets of sweat accumulating on his forehead slipping down along his face, mixing with the tears that soon fell. Teetering on the edge for so long, they trailed down the sides of his face. A strangled sound hitched in his throat as the instrument was pressed in the center of his chest, a sharp tip breaking skin, sending sharp tendrils of pain into his chest as it slowly slide down, parting flesh along the way. The incision wasn’t very long, About an inch in length and not very deep. Just enough for the dark beads of crimson to rise to the surface and trickle down over his abdomen. A sight the doctor delight in. Watching each droplet shift and curve with every thrust up into his subject.

 

His hips resumed a far more punishing pace and depth, a harsh slap of skin against skin before the doctor’s voice broke through with a groan. Miles writhed on the table as the elder male’s heat pooled inside him in multiple spurts, one large one then the following thrusts adding a couple smaller ones. He sunk in completely, hips shuddering in short motions before holding still. He ground the seed around inside as if trying to coat every part of the journalist in his claim and holding it there, running his scalpel along Miles’ inner thigh and leaving a nick and a couple short shallow cuts along it. He pressed his cheek against his knee, gloved fingers pressed over the restraints keeping the male immobile.

 

“I think you’re my favorite by far.”. He hummed, his lips parting into a toothy grin that made Miles’ blood turn to ice. “Though, there are a few… _modifications_ that will be necessary before you’re perfect.” He pressed a kiss to the journalist’s inner thigh before delivering a harsh bite just above the knee. “You won’t be needing these anymore.” He growled lowly. “And maybe...ah yes.” The doctor pulled out of the male, giving him a twisted smile as he tucked himself back inside his pants. Miles shivered at the seed and lubricant leaking out of his insides, trailing down over his skin towards the surface of the table. He moved toward Miles’ head, running his fingers through the sweat soaked chocolate locks, petting over them in a twisted form of affection. His eyes peering down at Miles through the wire rimmed glasses, meeting the brunette’s fearful gaze.

 

“Such a pretty color. Mind if I have one? No, I don’t think you’d mind at all. You only need one after all. Well, for now that is.” He purred, stroking along the sides of Miles’ cheek and admiring his eyes.His thumb wiping at the tear streaks. He raised the scalpel and started to close the proximity to the male’s pale and tear dampened flesh. “I’m not a greedy man. One is all I need-” Miles’ eyes widened as the blade neared the flesh around his right eye, his deep green hues pleading against it, his struggles renewed within the restraints as he whimpered. His head swooning with dizziness from the prolonged exposure to the gas from the mask when he heard a gasp followed by a loud bang, feeling the sharpness of the scalpel slip across his cheek, laying it open. He cried out, opening his eyes in time to see the doctor’s form hit the floor. A large gash formed across the side of his head as a familiar hulking form in black loomed over him. A bed pan gripped firmly in hand with blood dripping from the edges. The cold blue eyes were twisted into a look of disgust, lips pulled back into a snarl. This was nothing like the man Miles had met earlier that day.

 

The man seemed unfazed by the journalist’s predicament as he tossed the pan to the floor as he grabbed the doctor up by his bicep and turned away from the table, dragging the limp unconscious form away towards the other side of the room where specialized wheelchairs were, tucked into the corner next to the doorway. Fitted with thick heavy duty restraints. Miles felt sick as he watched the blood pooling down the front of the doctor’s outfit, soaking it red, large dark globs matting his hair where it had fallen free of his ponytail. The journalist could swear he could spot some shrapnel of white rising up from the damaged skull, seeing the form fixed into the wheelchair, head hanging and form practically lifeless. Slouched over and pale in the face, a contrast to the earlier enthusiasm that had been coloring it with a sadistic glow.

 

Only when the mad doctor was secured, did those cold eyes turn towards the journalist. There was a delay in recognition before they softened slowly, he returned with a few long strides and began to free Miles from the distorted contraption. “Are you alright?” He asked, a little hesitant at first as if he was uncertain of how to address the male. He released Miles’ hands first and foremost, allowing the journalist to remove the gas with a weak curse on his lips. He was hit with a sudden rush of dizziness, causing him to slouch back against the table. His hands trembling as they rested over his eyes, rubbing at the damp puffy skin as he tried to regain his composure. “Take it slow. Your body needs to balance itself out.” Eddie directed as he helped release Miles’ legs and grabbed a hand towel from the cart. It was meant for the doctor but Eddie figured he didn’t rightly deserve it. Placing it over Miles’ lap to help clean himself up and offer a small bit of modesty in the process.

 

“W-Waylon.” Miles murmured once he could think straight, his voice breathy and weak. “Th-they took Waylon-”

 

“I know. I’m going to find him.” Eddie explained. “Blaire won’t hurt him right away. Rick on the other hand is not so patient.” He gestured towards the cart, causing Miles to give it a good long look. The area beneath the cart had a separate set of tools with much bigger blades attached making Miles’ heart drop into his stomach and the sudden urge to be sick overwhelming him. Eddie looked around, reaching for the bedpan, offering it as a place for the journalist to retch into, only making him look far worse at the sight of the blood and strands of hair left over from the doctor. Miles waved it away, turning his head as he held it in his hands, closing his eyes and taking deep calming breaths until he could relax.

  


It took a little while for Miles to get his wits about him and calm down. He found his clothing shoved in a waste bin for later disposal and after cleaning up with the towel and removing the last of the devices, he was dressed and ready to follow Eddie. To much of the man’s dismay. He would have rather sent Miles off to get help but one look at the journalist and it was apparent he could barely stand on his own. Eddie knew if the twins got a hold of the man in this state, that would be the end of him. He took it slower going up the stairs, making it to the next floor, Eddie checked both ways before moving towards the elevator shaft. There was a special key card that made it so the upper floors could only be accessed by choice personnel. Eddie reached into his pocket and withdrew a blood splattered key card with the elder doctor’s image printed on the front with a numerical code on the side. He wiped it clean with his jacket sleeve before swiping it through the slot. The neutral white light glowed green, permitting access to the upper floors. The last four floor lights which were previously dark lit up as an option.

 

“If I remember correctly, this is the floor where Blaire does his auctions.” Eddie muttered to himself, waiting for Miles to stumble in and rest with his back against the side wall, gripping the bar inside the elevator with his bloodied nubs and fingers. His dark locks disheveled as his eyes looked the larger male up and down. Unease trickling down his spine at the familiarity Eddie had with this entire place. He watched the raven haired man press the button, the doors closing with a ding. He adjusted his tie and combed his fingers through his raven locks, recapturing the wayward strands straying from the earlier activity. He released a deep breath, his shoulders drawn back with a relaxed posture that was unsettling. As if he were arriving right on time for a special date and not rushing to save a friend from a foul fate.


	14. The Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Honeymoon begins with Waylon as the unwitting bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Well, I don't know what else to say about this chapter Enjoy! It's almost over. Thank you again for all you support along the way. Please leave a comment at the end to let me know what you think.

“Honey! I’m home.” A voice piped up, rousing Waylon from his sleeping state, feeling his head throb painfully with the pulsing pain of a headache settling in the back of his skull. His pale blue orbs opening slowly, finding the room was darker than he anticipated, relishing in the dimly lit surroundings. A soft mesh like fabric laid over his face in an odd way, stirring tendrils of confusion from his thoughts. He tried to remember what had happened, how he got here but it was hard to wade through the fog of his thoughts. Overshadowed by a numb feeling that settled over his form. As if he was lying in a mud pit, everything felt far too surreal. Like walking through a dream but he was unable to move. His senses were heightened, feeling out the shift of the air in the room as the door shut behind the newcomer. The light jostling of the bed and the scuff of shoes across the floor. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day sweetheart.” The voice murmured, moving around to the side of the bed where the blonde lay. Waylon’s mind told himself to move but it resulted in the slightest twitch of his arm, the firm tug of something holding his wrists in place.

 

It took a moment more before his memories returned. They were hard to sift through at first, just flashes here and there. The sound of Jeremy’s voice as he explained what was expected of him while the twins placed him in the dress. Eddie’s dress, Waylon recognized the feeling, the beading and sequins. The dazzling display standing proudly in the window front. And the mesh was a veil made specifically to match him.  

 

 

_“Every good little bitch needs a husband. You will be the bride and the lucky bidder to offer the highest number will assume the position as your groom.” The dark haired male explained in a cold tone. His lips drawing back with a smile as the strings in the back of the dress were tied tightly around his torso. A corset fit that molded to his body. Eddie had done a brilliant job of accentuating the blonde’s figure and natural form with the delicate fabric. “You are auction item #2536. Bride of the Honeymoon Suite. You will be owned by your ‘Groom’ and will remain in that suite until he either tires of you or you break. You are to perform all the duties of a newlywed wife which includes spreading those legs of yours whenever he desires and keeping that mouth of yours shut.” Jeremy’s tone was sharp and all business as per usual._

 

_Waylon struggled pitifully in the grasp of the twins as they forced him back into a chair. The suite was arranged like a lavish apartment complex. Meant to be lived in. A place Waylon would be spending the rest of his life in, however little that may be. There was an assortment of garments brought in by the twins earlier when his gown was brought, women’s clothing, toys, etc. None of which he wanted anything to do with. He felt sick and miserable, realizing he had slipped into the rabbit hole and would never see the light of day again. The fire in his eyes had died. Whatever optimism he had been dragging along behind him these last few weeks was diminished to a wisp of smoke with no chance of rekindling. “Smile pet.” Jeremy commanded as one of the twins gripped his chin suddenly. A camera was held up to take a few photos of Waylon all dolled up. A few without the veil and some with it down. Full body images and close up. Each, Waylon could only assume would be used like a sales ad for the suite. An entire floor for purchase with their very own housewife to fuck to death if they wanted._

 

_Waylon could only imagine that this was what had happened to those other people in the photos Miles showed him. The ones that were used beyond broken and passed on to Dr. Trager to be used like scraps. His eyes were damp, lip quivering lightly as he struggled to retain his composure. To hold back the rough ball of emotion rising up in his throat. “Give him something to relax. I don’t want him starting the waterworks and ruining the dress.” Jeremy snapped as he turned away from the smaller male and the twin thugs. Fiddling with his phone before changing over to answer a phone call. He seemed more interested in tonight’s affairs._

 

_It wasn’t until a sharp prick cause his arm that Waylon realized one of the twins had injected him with something. It had a strange peachy tint to it and rose up along his arm with a tingling sensation. Like spider webs were laying across his skin. Goosebumps followed, giving him a chill before the fog clouded over his thoughts. Everything seemed too loud but yet so far away. His vision blurred and sounds were magnified. Every sensation was magnified, the softness of the gown against his skin. The hazy feeling in his head that made him swoon, very nearly causing him to fall out of the chair, forcing the twins to catch him. He felt his body being moved, picked up with ease as he was situated on the bed._

 

 

Waylon memory blanked out after that but he could only assume the rest by the feeling of his wrists being bound, the straps tying them were made of a red silk cloth. He felt the veil shift, the white fabric moved up away from his face, allowing him to blink around at the rest of the room. The place was lit by small lamps and candles placed all around. Rose petals laid about in a romantic attempt and soft music started to play from the speakers set up around the house. Filling every room with smooth jazz. The man beside him had a large grin across his features, a head of greasy slicked back hair and an expensive suit on. He had removed his jacket and tie already and was sitting down on the side of the bed. His eyes were a dark brown, and held a perverse hunger in them. If Waylon didn’t know any better, he’d assume the man was Jeremy’s twin or a close cousin of sorts. This man had a slightly more rounded face and his features were softer, more welcoming in a way. Not as hard or cold as the crime boss’.

 

“My my, you are a pretty thing.” The man cooed in a voice that made Waylon exceedingly uncomfortable. He resembled Jeremy too much to the point that anything non-degrading coming from his mouth was like standing in an alternate universe and it was more unsettling then the fact he was wearing a wedding dress. His voice was kind of close to Blaire’s only with a bit of a drawl hanging on the edges of certain words as if the man was trying to conceal that fact. His hand caressed Waylon’s cheek with a warm gentleness that unnerved him. Part of him wanted to press into the touch, to accept any kindness offered him but another part of him wanted to reject it all. Telling himself that even this man’s kindness was toxic. This stranger who purchased him like some toy on an auction block. He was not a human being in this man’s eyes but a possession.

 

He closed his pale blue orbs and turned his head away from the touch, biting the inside of his cheek when the hand paused and drew away. “Oh, come on sweetheart. Don’t be like that.” His tone was playful, light hearted. The kind one uses with a lover or significant other. The kind meant for a consensual romance. Waylon shivered, keeping his distance as much was physically possible in this situation. The man hummed in contemplation before a low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “I know just what you need.” He chimed, rising from the edge of the bed and heading over to his jacket where it was draped neatly over the vanity chair from earlier. He fished around in it before he produced a silver container with a decorative engraving on the side. An insignia, rather it was a family crest or a organization logo, Waylon couldn’t tell from this distance with the lighting. Whatever was within rattled with the slightest motion as the man tilted the capsule into his palm. He placed the contents into his mouth, one for himself which he easily swallowed down. The second, he waited until he was back by the bedside, crawling over to straddle Waylon’s hips.

 

He placed the small white object on his tongue but held it there, grasping the blonde’s jaw and directing his gaze back up, he pressed their lips together. Slotting them with ease as he tongue prodded at the male’s lips. The hand slipped over to pinch Waylon’s nose shut, forcing him to part for air. His tongue slipped into the techie’s mouth and delivered the special little substance. It was bitter on Waylon’s tongue, dissolving over his taste buds as the man continued the hungry assault on his possession. “Swallow it sweetheart. It’ll make you feel good." He purred against the techie’s lips, fingers trailing over the smaller male’s cheekbone and jaw with tender touches before he leaned back on his haunches. Shifting his belt off and tossing it to the side. Opening his dark slacks to expose the hardened flesh beneath. Waylon whimpered, his pale blue hues tilted to gaze at the male, the drug making the dizziness in his head worse. His body was overtaken with a heat, similar to the little pink vial that Dr. Trager gave him during the last meeting with Blaire. Everything was hot and sensitive. The dim lighting was far too bright, forcing him to close his eyes. The man’s hands trailed across his body, even through the fabric the hands were incredibly warm.

 

They eased their way down to Waylon’s hips, lifting the layers of fabric to expose the delicate pink lingerie fitted over the male’s pale crotch. He was clean shaven, legs smooth and hairless. A task that must have been done while he was out of it. Possibly by the mad doctor. The man appreciated that fact, dragging calloused fingertips across the silky skin. A slight oily feeling accompanied it, the soft scent of lotion rubbed into every inch of pale flesh. “They really do know how to pick em.” The man crooned, his pupils blown much wider than normal, the sound of his voice was huskier and his drawl was more prominent. The fingers made their way up to Waylon’s groin, feeling up the inside of his thigh before easing into the lingerie, giving the elastic material a slight snap, causing Waylon to jerk in surprise. They teased at the fabric before pulling it down further, the man clicked his tongue in amusement. “You’re really feeling that special treat, aren’t ya? My little sweetheart has the cutest little pink flush.” The fingers trailed over Waylon’s member, rubbing the pad of his index finger over the tip.

 

“Til death do us part honey bear.” He cooed. “I intend to make that vow last.” The heated flesh twitched at the teasing motion, sliding down  the underside of his shaft towards his sack then slipping down along his taint to his entrance. The tight ring of muscle was twitching with the arousal settling in it. A deep ache formed inside him. Muscles tightening up as the bundle of nerves throbbed with want. Waylon’s face was tinged a soft pink as he shuddered. “You’ve been savin yourself  just for me sweetheart? I intent to savor this precious gift.” The man leaned forward, posting his arms on either side of Waylon as he leaned down to take the techie’s quivering lips, claiming them with his own and capturing the breathless male. His hips pressed down, larger heated flesh rubbing and grinding against Waylon’s smaller shaft. Drawing sweet moans from the techie’s overly sensitive form. His wrists tugged against the soft restraints, legs spreading further apart as need overtook him. He didn’t care anymore. If this was going to be the rest of his life, he’d rather this then what Jeremy Blaire had been doing to him. His body couldn't deny what it wanted. Not with the cocktail of substances still running rampant inside him.

 

The man hummed lowly, giving a pleased groan as the blonde become more compliant. He shifted his pants a bit lower, sliding them off little by little until they were lying at his ankles. He smirked softly against Waylon’s lips, drawing away enough to grab the slacks and withdraw a small vial with a special little label holding the Murkoff insignia on the front, the same sort of mark that the other silver object had. Waylon’s eyes opened, lips parted in breathy gasps as the male tossed his slacks aside and held the vial up while he pried the cap off. It released with a pop as he poured a pinkish slime like substance into his hand, running over his fingers. The vial cap was placed back on and set aside on the bed, just out of the way. He leaned back over Waylon, using one hand to post his body above the male while his slick digits rubbed over the tight ring of muscle. Pressing in every few rubs before they slid in with ease. Sucked in by the techie’s eager entrance. The man gave an amused growl, closing the distance as he mouthed over Waylon’s neck. Licking and sucking at his pulse point and down along his adam’s apple, lower towards his collarbone and where the front of the dress began.

 

Each kiss and motion punctuated by the fingers thrusting into the smaller lithe male. Slipping one then two fingers in. Working their way up to three. The man took his time, enjoying every arch and moan from his new possession. Directing the digits towards that one special spot. A searing heat filling Waylon’s velvety inner walls. A fire like no other but it wasn’t painful. No, it was maddening. A deep desire overtaking him, causing him to rock his hips back onto the digits. Planting his feet firmly on the bed and leveraging his pelvis back to greet each thrust with a greedy hunger that matched the stranger’s.

 

The vial was yet another of the syndicates specialty goods. Something men like these devoured along with the sexual possessions Blaire auctioned off regularly. Each specially trained and prepared for the themed room they occupied. To fulfill all the needs and desires of the consumer. It was a cleaner, classier version of a brothel. No fear of STD’s and no worry about being caught. As long as they paid their dues to the syndicate regularly, they had their own little pet, safely tucked away for their enjoyment.

 

Waylon whimpered when the male’s fingers paused, feeling them hold still inside him. He gave a frustrated sound as the heat flared up inside him, worsening with the lack of stimulation until the digits moved ever so slightly. His pale hues were dewy as he gazed up, feeling the loss of a hot mouth against his skin. The man’s eyes were nearly black with the pupils, his gaze fixed solely on the techie as he observed every reaction from the blonde. The slightest movement contorted Waylon’s face into gasping trembling pleasure. His body brimming with the static hum and dizziness with every thrust of those digits. His shaft was already dribbling precum down the heated length. Soiling the precious pink fabric of his panties with white droplets. Every prod at that sensitive bundle of nerves had it twitching, throbbing with desperation.

 

“Ya want me sweetheart?” The male growled lowly. The husky tone was heavier, the drawl was thick, sending chills racing across Waylon’s body. “Go on n’ say it. Beg for my cock inside ya.” The man gave another light prod. The techie shuddered, a sharp gasp rising in the air, cut short as he bit down on his lip. He closed his eyes, feeling the fingers shift a little, urging more sounds free. Damp streaks trailed down his cheeks as he parts his lips, feeling the man’s breath hot against his neck. Teeth grazing over his ear in a teasing motion as he spoke more firmly. “Beg me to fuck ya like the good little bitch ya are.”

  
  
  


 

 

It took a little while for Eddie and Miles to work their way through the top floor, searching for the registry for the auction. It had finished some time prior which was unsettling for Eddie. They found the master computer system and with some finagling on Miles’ end, he was able to use a few tricks Waylon taught him to break through the security and find the files containing all of the assigned rooms. The downside being they didn’t have names directly attached. Each room has the purchaser, the auction number and the initials and gender of each occupant. They scrolled down the list until they found one that looked promising.

 

**_F7: Honeymoon Suite - W.P #2536 (Male)_ **

 

Before Eddie had the chance to go rushing off, Miles managed to find a live camera feed that ran throughout that floor. Pulling up the empty living room and kitchen area. There was a trail of rose petals leading from the front door with candles lighting the hall towards the master bedroom. They changed over the camera view to find a large male leaning over the slender form draped in white fabric. It was hard to see clearly with the dimness of the lighting and the man taking up a large amount of view, but Eddie recognized his craftsmanship right away. “That’s floor number seven?” The raven haired male asked, giving Miles a stern look.

 

The journalist tensed in his seat and nodded, his voice failing briefly, causing him to clear his throat before speaking up. “Yeah. Seventh floor.” He reassured. Eddie’s dark blue eyes held a frighteningly cold gaze that was unbecoming of the normally friendly tailor. Miles didn’t have a chance to speak more before Eddie was turning and heading for the elevator.

 

“Meet me in the lobby.” The tone was sharp, sending cold tendrils clutching at Miles’ chest, permitting him to give only a grunt affirmation. His attention turned back to the screen as he watched the feed, seeing how his best friend writhed at the stranger’s hands. Miles’ stomach clenched up tightly, feeling the acrid taste of bile rising in his throat. He forced it back and clicked out of the feed. Working quickly to compile as many files as he could, downloading them down to a flash drive that he kept on his key ring. Taking as much footage and evidence as he could and simultaneously sending it to a dummy email to upload the rest on a scheduled setting. He wasn’t as good as Waylon at this sort of thing but he knew enough to get by.

  


It didn’t take very long for the elevator to send Eddie to the 7th floor, using Rick’s key card, he had unlimited access to anywhere in the facility. The seconds ticked by, feeling like eternity as he counted off one floor after another. Cursing the ridiculous multitude of floors in this god forsaken building. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he finally reached the correct level, the doors dinging to show their arrival. There was a short hallway about the size of a mud room where one leaves their shoes. A pair was already waiting at the entrance with a briefcase sitting beside it. Possibly the customer that purchased the suite. There was a door on the other side, unwittingly unlocked but then again, the only way in and out of the elevator was with an authorization card or an override code. Other locks were unnecessary after that.

 

The door opened with a click, pushing past the threshold, he didn’t even bother shutting it behind himself. Following the trail of rose petals all the way down the hall, he stopped long enough to give the camera a brief glance, wondering if Miles was still rummaging through the computer systems or not. He shrugged it off, turning towards the doorway to the master bedroom where soft moans and breathless whines could be heard. The shifting of fabric against bedding and a thick drawl growling out demands towards his bride. Eddie’s anger flared when he saw the sick bastard’s hands on the techie, fingers buried to the last knuckle inside. His mouth marking across Waylon’s neck. He passed the chair on the way, picking up the silk tie and wrapping it around his fingers on each end. His footsteps were precise and silent, moving with all the ease and experience of a apex predator. The man bit at Waylon’s ear, drawing a sound from the male’s lips. He parted from Waylon far enough for Eddie to swipe the tie down in front of the man’s face and hook around his throat.

 

The stranger didn’t even realize what was happening until the larger male pulled him back, tightening the tie and crossing the ends until he had a makeshift noose, dragging him back off the bed. Legs kicking wildly as he fought back, seeking leverage against the behemoth. His hands slick with the laced lubricant, struggled to get a grip on Eddie’s hands, sliding over the material of his gloves as choked sounds broke into the air. The body half leaning off the bed with his feet kicking up the sheets and blankets. His face turning dark red then almost blue as his body started to slouch and relax until finally it slumped all together in Eddie’s hold but the raven haired male didn’t let go there. He made certain his prey was done for before pushing the body off onto the floor. The legs flopping down to the ground with a sickening thud.

 

His cold eyes regarding the lifeless form with a disgusted sneer. If it wasn’t for the limited time, he would have stayed to make much more of an impression. His attention turned back towards the bed upon the breathy whimper filtering through the air. The male made his way to the side, giving the bindings a firm yank and pulling them free of the headboard, freeing Waylon’s wrists. His eyes softened as he soaked in the blonde’s deteriorating state. Waylon’s eyes were glazed over and his body was hot and feverish. “It’s alright Waylon. You’re safe now.” Eddie murmured as he ran his fingers through the blonde locks, finding them and the pillowcase were soaked through with sweat. His skin was burning up and the desperate writhing had him frantic. He fixed Waylon’s clothing, shifting it back to cover him up as much as possible as he spoke soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’m taking you home. We’re going home okay?”

 

Eddie scooped the bride up into his arms, cradling him to his chest as carefully as he could, making his way to the doorway. The ride down in the elevator was slow, making his way to the lobby where he glanced around in search of Miles. Shifting Waylon in his arms, he cursed the journalist, hoping he wasn’t caught. His eyes glancing between the groaning figure in his embrace then back around. “Come on Miles. Where the hell are you?”

 

“Why can’t you just die?” The voice was cold and familiar, jolting into the open lobby like thunder. Miles came racing through a service hall threshold like he had the devil on his heels. A familiar laptop bag strapped over his shoulders as he booked it towards Eddie. Skidding to a stop as he glanced between the larger male and the bridal figure in his arms. Before either of them could move another inch, the twins and Jeremy came racing around the doorway. The thud of footsteps ceasing at the opening as the cold gaze of the crime boss locked with Eddie’s.

 

“Here, take him.” Eddie growled lowly to Miles, holding Waylon out effortlessly.

 

The journalist held out his arms and gently lowered the writhing form of his best friend to the floor, keeping an eye on him as he helped prop him up against the receptionist desk. Safely out of the crossfire. His eyes flickering from Eddie to Waylon’s trembling body, pressing a hand against the blonde’s forehead and cursing aloud. “Whatever you’re gonna do, do it quick.” Miles interjected, a statement that didn’t even warrant a response from the larger male.

 

“Is this how you repay me Gluskin? I promised you a spot in the book, all your hard work would finally pay off and you’re going to throw it all away for him?” The condescending tone was directed at Eddie like daggers at his throat. A bait that the tailor wasn’t going to feed into. His fingers curled into tight fists as he closed the distance between them. The twins standing on either side of their boss, awaiting the next order. “Kill him.”


	15. The End (?)

“Kill him.” The words were effortless, dripping off of Jeremy’s tongue with no remorse. A command the tailor was hoping for. The twin’s were two guard dogs, far too eager to please and bite. Lunging forward with clumsy movements, lumbering and heavy. Eddie was much faster, much more experienced at this sort of thing. The first swung too wide, obviously used to amateurs as the tailor twisted to avoid, striking straight out, hips pivoting with a rotating jab. Adding more power and force to his punch as his fist met the bald twin’s jaw. He turned quickly, pivoting back, feet moving with ease as the second lunged for him. Using the same momentum to strike back at his chest, aiming for the diaphragm and knocking the air right out of him. The dark haired twin buckled over, gasping as the muscle in his chest refused to bring in oxygen for a brief moment. Just enough time for Eddie to turn his assault on the bald twin. Adding distance between them and backing him up away from Blaire. Blaire shuffled back, away from the scene as he cursed at the dark haired counterpart. “Get off your ass and kill him!”

 

The fight didn’t last as long as Blaire would have hoped. Eddie was precise and knowledgeable on his targets, after having worked with the twin’s before. Long ago. He knew how they moved, how they fight, how easy they are to tease and taunt, luring them into certain actions. He knew the pattern they moved in. In all honesty, it wasn’t really that hard to figure out. Eddie’s only advantage is his own raw physical power. It made it easier to take these two on. If he were Waylon’s or Miles’ size, he’d be over taken easily. 

 

“What are you planning to do Gluskin? Run off and live happily ever after? People like us don’t get that option.” Jeremy growled from the sidelines. Watching as his henchmen were thrown around and beat down. Struggling to get back up. Grunts and groans littering the air, parted only by the sound of heavy bodies hitting the cold tile floor. “If you expose us, you will expose yourself as well. All those dirty little secrets will be out in the open. You’ll never be safe again Gluskin. Not even while hiding in that fucking shop of yours.” The voice edged around the room, moving as Eddie fended off the twins. Grabbing one by his bicep and wheeling him around with the force of his body before sending him sprawling over by the reception desk. This time the dark haired twin didn’t get back up. 

 

Eddie’s dark blue eyes glanced between the fallen twin and the movement near the desk. The dark suited figure rushed towards Miles with a knife in hand, catching the journalist off guard. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the man’s wrist, throwing both of their bodies to the floor, tumbling away from Waylon’s barely conscious form. They rolled about, Miles grunting as he pushed back against the armed man, his bloodied fingers slipping and struggling. Jeremy slammed his forehead down against Miles, sending an explosion of white behind his eyes, pain searing through his skull, his grasp faltered, allowing Jeremy’ to force the blade down. Miles had just enough strength to push it off, the blade cracking the tile beneath them, dangerously close to his neck. He wormed away, trying to push the crime boss off but Jeremy was relentless. 

 

Eddie’s body slammed into the crime boss at full charge, tackling him into the floor and sending him onto his back. The bald headed twin joining his brother on the floor as well. Miles scrambled back to Waylon’s side, out of sight of the twins but still able to watch the fight with Eddie from between the desks. The pair struggled back and forth as Blaire kicked out at Eddie’, slamming his expensive shoes into the tailor’s abdomen. Eddie grunted, wincing as he was forced backwards. He pushed off the floor and rolled into a crouch, getting his feet underneath him just as Blaire lunged forward, charging into him this time. Eddie grabbed the crime boss by the torso and shuffled back, hitting the wall near the elevator. A sharp cry erupted from Eddie’s chest as Blaire’s hand jabbed back and forth, clutching the blade tightly in his fingers. Red dripped from the open wounds and stained his clothes as Jeremy stepped back. 

 

Eddie’s hand clutched over the bleeding wounds, applying pressure immediately. Blaire sneered, wiping the back of his hand over his split lip, a blood dripping from his nose as a condescending laugh rumbled in his throat. “Ten _ fucking  _ years Gluskin. You threw away ten fucking years of work with Murkoff for that worthless piece of shit. You finally got out but you couldn’t leave well enough alone.” He spit blood onto the floor at Eddie’s feet, watching the tailor’s fingers stain red, grasping at the large lacerations scissoring his torso. The white cloth ripped to shreds by the blade as a dark puddle formed beneath him. “At least now you can join the rest of your fucking family in hell.” He growled, turning away from Eddie, fixing his attention on Miles and Waylon. Eddie groaned, pushing himself back up to stand, one hand gripping his abdomen, the other smearing red streaks across the previously pristine white walls. 

 

He shifted towards Jeremy, holding his breath as he endured each step, shambling closer until he was right up behind the crime boss. His hand grasping the back of Jeremy’s head as he slammed it down against the side of the reception desk.Repeating the action as he screamed. “Die you fucking whore!” The wet thunk of the smaller man’s head hit over and over again, his hands grasping at the sides of the desk blindly to find leverage, bloodied hands slipping across the polished surface before they gave up altogether. The body ceasing it’s struggles as red splattered the flat space, dribbling down the sides of the desk. The sudden sound of retching filled the silence that settled with the limp form. His blue orbs were wild and enlarged, the veins bulging in his neck as his hands released the broken form of the former crime boss. His gaze running towards the first sign of movement behind the desk, only to find the journalist clinging to the waste bin underneath and finally up-heaving the contents of his stomach. They’d been threatening to escape all night long. 

 

Eddie felt his knees give way, dropping to the floor and the mess that covered it, soaking into his knees. His heart hammering in his head, the bloodied wounds weren’t faring any better. It was becoming harder to breath as dizziness overwhelmed him. “Fuck…” He cursed. The sound of footsteps shuffled on the other side of the desk as Miles pulled Waylon to his feet. Carrying the techie in his arms with the laptop case tucked over his shoulder. Eddie felt the weakness in his arms, his body trembling as the journalist neared hesitantly. His emerald orbs avoiding the sight of the dead man draped over the desk. He reached down carefully, fingers fishing around in the tailor’s pockets, searching for the key card, curling around it as he drew back. Eddie’s hand shot out and grabbed the journalist tightly by the forearm causing Miles to freeze. Their eyes met briefly, holding each other’s gaze before Eddie managed a weak murmur. “Take care of him. Please.” 

 

“I will.” Miles spoke firmly, without hesitation as the tailor released his hold on his arm. The raven haired male gave a slow nod before his body sank down to the floor, the pool of blood dispersing around him, mixing and mingling with Blaire’s. Racing across the cold white tile floors. Miles turned, shifting Waylon in his arms as he headed out of the building, racing to get back to his jeep as quickly as he could. The techie whimpered in Miles’ hold, his head resting weakly against his shoulder. “Just hold on Way Way. I’m going to get you some help. You’ll be fixed up in no time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pale blue orbs opened slowly, staring up at the dimly lit room. The lights were off, only the pale shreds of the cold dreary world outside were able to seep through the closed blinds, offering some light. The rest was a sickly blue glow from monitors, beeping a steady monotonous thrum in sync with his heartbeat. His headache with a dull pain resting right behind his eyes. The tell tale signs of his body demanding caffeine, an overly familiar sensation. He licked his lips, tongue far too dry and feeling enlarged in his mouth as lips cracked from dehydration. His eyes scanned the surroundings, spotting the bright bursts of color resting on the bed side table, several different kinds of flowers were placed around the room. ‘Get Well’ cards and balloons were placed in odd spots, some he recognized from his workplace and some from friends. Amidst the darker places of the room, the pale hues spotted the familiar set of shoulders draped in the same old worn out leather jacket. The brunette locks were as unruly as ever, head resting in the open bandaged palm, propping it up on the arm of the chair beside his bed. 

 

“...Miles…” The blonde rasped, giving his lips another fretful lick to try and unstick the dryness in his mouth. His hand reached out towards his best friend, pausing to inspect the multitude of needle ports left in his arm. Two different ones in the back of his hand and one in his arm. One leading up towards an IV. His eyes flickering back up to the brunette as he began to stir. His head rising slowly, weary green eyes caressed by darker bags then he’s ever seen before on his best friend. 

 

Those emerald hues widened in surprise, noticing the blonde was awake. His hand shot out to touch the techie’s hand, curling his fingers into Waylon’s open palm, mindful of the tubes and his own bandaged nubs. “Waylon.” Miles’ eyes began to turn dewy, his features lighting up with joy before he switched back to a more serious mode. “Are you alright? How are you feeling? Light headed? Dizzy? Sick-”

 

“Miles..” Waylon rasped, giving him a gentle smile, not at all capable of chastising the journalist. Not when he thought he’d never see him again. He squeezed the male’s hand back weakly as he shook his head before speaking softly. “Thirsty.”

 

“Alright. I’ll get you something to drink and let the nurses know you’re awake.” He got up from his chair, nearly stumbling over the leg of it in the process. Turning back quickly as he held his hands up. “Hold on tight. Don’t go anywhere.” Miles’ lips quirked into a small smile as Waylon rolled his eyes at the order. Leaning back into the bed as the journalist rushed off to the hallway, nearly running into an orderly on the way. He close his eyes for a few minutes, hearing the soft beep of the machines in the quiet. The distant sounds of a PA system paging different doctors from the hallways. 

 

The sound of footsteps entered after a short bit, a nurse entering with Miles in tow, carrying a large styrofoam cup with a bendy straw full of ice water. The nurse helped Waylon sit up, adjusting the bed to a more reclined position so he could get a few sips from the straw. Miles holding it carefully for him while the nurse tended to his best friend.There was a short exchange of questions back and forth between Waylon and the staff, most of it about how he was feeling. The nurse explained that he was nearly a goner from all the drugs in his system when he was brought in. Miles had gotten to the hospital just in time to save his life. After the nurse left, Waylon turned towards Miles who offered the drink again but the techie waved it away. “How long have I been in here?”

 

“A week.” Miles answered simply, setting the cup aside as he relaxed back into the chair. He rested his hands in his lap and winced when he bumped his nub a little to hard on one. “The police are investigating Murkoff as we speak. I got got back files on all their illegal dealings. They arrested everyone involved in the auction inside the building, thanks to the mad doctor’s key, they were able to ambush the place. They’re hunting down the last remaining members, those who haven’t gone into hiding yet.”

 

Waylon nodded slowly in understanding. His eyes glancing around the room, taking in the flowers and gifts lying about. “Lisa stopped by. And some of your coworkers. They said they would come back later.” Miles explained, pointing towards the bright orange bouquet of flowers resting on the table beside Waylon’s drink. The card was signed by his ex-girlfriend Lisa. Waylon felt a dull ache resonate in his chest at the thought. He had spent so long pining over her after the break up but now, seeing the flowers from her, all he feels is a bit of guilt, not because of how their relationship turned out but because he no longer has feelings for her.

 

He paused for a moment, dredging through his scattered thoughts before he found what he really wanted to ask. “Where’s Eddie?” Waylon murmured, looking Miles in the eyes, the journalist opened his mouth to speak before closing it and breathing a soft sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his head in thought before he got up from his spot. 

 

“I think we need to take a little walk. You’ve been in that bed far too long.” Miles offered a small smile in compromise, moving towards the door where a wheelchair was tucked off to the side, folding up neatly. He fixed it up and wheeled it to the bed. Helping Waylon into it. He grabbed a spare blanket off the bed and wrapped his friend up and placed his cup of water in the techie’s lap. There was a contraption on the side that allowed the IV stand to easily be attached to it so Waylon didn’t need to fuss with all the tubes. “Alright, here we go.” Miles chirped, giving Waylon a push and guiding him out of the hall with much more care and awareness then he had done before.

 

After a few minutes, Waylon felt the cold tendrils of dread sneaking into his chest. His friend rarely ever held the truth from him like this unless it wasn’t good. “Miles, what happened to Eddie?” He asked once more, his fingers fiddling with the cup in his grasp idly. Miles hummed in thought, turning down another hall, past a series of large glass windows with a walkway, heading to another section of the hospital wing. There was a courtyard just outside for leisurely viewing. An area a lot of patients frequented when moving about the hospital. It even had a couple different benches lining the windows so they could sit down and relax, admiring the flowers and fountains outside. When the weather was nicer, they could even walk around it. They made another turn as Miles continued on his way. Entering another wing of rooms. Many of them were closed off with the lights shut off or empty. 

 

“Miles…?” Waylon spoke up again in confusion as the panic continued. Miles stopped in his tracks as a pair of police officers exited a room up ahead. One of them holding a notepad in their hands, finishing jotting down a few details as they paused in their tracks as well. They were average looking men, offering Miles and Waylon both a nod of greeting before continuing on their way. 

 

Once they were alone, Miles leaned down to murmur into Waylon’s ear. “Those two are aiding the investigation on Murkoff. Just running some follow up questions through all the survivors.” Miles hummed before adding. “You’ll probably see them in the next day or so once your doctor clears you to be stable enough for questioning but don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you.” Miles piped up with his same old enthusiasm, patting Waylon on the shoulder as they resumed their trip, heading for the same door the officers had just left. Waylon gave the name tag on the door a glance but it said simply “John Doe” with no additional information on it. He made a puzzled sound as Miles wheeled him into the room, 

 

Waylon’s eyes widened as the pale hues fell upon the familiar combed back raven hair, the blue orbs were a little more sunken and darker ringed from weariness. His complexion wasn’t as bright either and an oxygen mask took up a portion of his face. Most of his torso was wrapped in bandages, where Waylon was wearing the full white garb, the male in the bed was just in a pair of white trousers with no shirt over top. Broad shoulders and muscles relaxed back into the abundance of pillows cushioning his body. The blankets drawn up to his hips. His eyes staring up at the television on the wall, the volume turned down almost all the way as bland day time t.v ran repeats. The room lacked color and had no “Get Well’ gifts or signs of visitors other than those officers. The male seemed unaware of their presence for a minute or so, before Miles cleared his throat, drawing the set of exhausted eyes from the older ale towards them. 

 

He tensed, eyes widening in disbelief and blinking as if expecting the pair to vanish from view at any moment. “Waylon?” Eddie asked, in desperate need of reassurance that what he was seeing was real and wasn’t just the mixture of sleep deprivation and all the painkillers he was pumped with causing hallucinations again. Miles gave Waylon’s chair a little push, situating it so Waylon was tucked up beside Eddie’s bed, the techie’s hands reaching for the tailor’s scarred and bandaged wrists. Drawing the cold digits into his grasp and pulling them up close. He tilted his head to place a soft kiss on the back of his hand and pressed his cheek against it. Proving that it was really him, warm and solid. Eddie’s breath hitched, the mask slipping away slightly as he moved his palm to caressed the side of Waylon’s cheek. Fingers brushing through the long unruly blonde locks that curled around the techie’s pale features. His lips turned up into a relieved smile, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and falling without a second thought. “I thought I had lost you darling.”

 

“I’m still here. Thanks to you and Miles, I’m right here.” Waylon exhaled slowly.

 

“Actually, thanks to Eddie, we’re both alive.” Miles interjected. “Had it not been for him, I would have ended up like all the rest of Trager’s victims.” He wiggled his nubs, accentuating the fact he was missing a few digits. Waylon gave a soft sound and soon tears started down his own cheeks. Miles jolted in surprise and drew his hand back. “Sorry.”

 

“No, no. It’s fine.” The techie reached out for Miles’ hand and pulled it over, holding both of the people who meant the most to him in the world. They weren’t all in one piece but at least they were alive and that was good enough for him. “I’m just happy to have you both still by my side.”

 

Miles pulled a chair up to sit beside Waylon, his hand resting in Waylon’s hold, the blonde maintaining a vice grip on him. Eddie returned the same vice grip on Waylon’s other hand, ignoring the slight pinching in his palm from his damaged hands. He had fractured a few smaller bones but it was worth it in the end. He relaxed back into the pillows, rubbing his thumb over the back of Waylon’s palm. Silence ensued until a thought crossed Waylon’s mind. “Eddie, why is your room labeled John Doe?”

 

Miles murmured a soft excuse to go get some coffee, drawing his hand free of Waylon’s grasp so the two could have a moment to themselves. The raven haired male paused his thumb strokes before he raised the blonde’s hand up to his lips. Delivering a brief kiss to the spidery veins on the back of the male’s palm. “I’m under witness protection. I made a deal to testify against Murkoff and all the atrocities they committed. In return, you, Miles and myself are granted immunity and protection from the syndicate.”

 

“Why you?” Waylon’s brows creased in worry. His fingers curling to weave through Eddie’s grasp. 

 

Eddie returned the gesture as he contemplated how much he wished to tell the smaller male. After a moment he decided he would tell him everything. Waylon was bound to discover the truth sooner or later. “My Father and Uncle racked up an astounding amount of debt with Murkoff. Much like your own only they gambled and drank it all away.” He resumed his thumb strokes over Waylon’s palm. “Jeremy Blaire approached my mother, claiming he could take everything away from us. The shop, our home, our lives. All because of them. I offered to pay off the debt and Jeremy returned with a request. I was to pay it back in blood. Their blood for starters.” 

 

Eddie’s tone settled to a low whisper. “They were cruel men who hurt others for their own amusement. Abusers and rapists. They were just as bad as Murkoff but they were the worst evil at the time. I couldn’t sit back and watch the rest of us suffer because of them. I took the job but afterwards, Jeremy demanded more. Another hit. Another contract. Another blemish on their books that needed cleaning up. He promised to enter my family into Murkoff’s Red Ledger. It would protect us, keep us from harm but he never did. He allowed me my freedom and never called upon me again after that until last week.”

 

Waylon wasn’t quite certain how to take this bit of information. His thoughts wandering to the article; the expression on Eddie’s face. Come to think of it, it didn't seem to be the look of a young man in mourning. Instead, it was a young man forced to grow up far too quickly. He had taken the burden of carrying his family on his back. After everything he had witnessed in that short span of time, Waylon didn’t feel like he could rightly judge Eddie's actions. He himself had been willing to sacrifice everything for Miles' sake, and Eddie’s safety. He knew just how hard a position Jeremy Blaire could put somebody in, having taken the brunt of it all. “What changed? You were free of after so much struggling.”

  
  
“You came into my life, Waylon, and  I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to be a part of my life forever. To add you to the Ledger and keep you safe. Free from Blaire. So that they wouldn’t be able to touch you. I didn’t know what he was doing; that he already had you in his grasp. The things he…” Eddie paused, swallowing hard. He used his free hand to fix the oxygen mask on his face. Occasionally, he would have troubles breathing, the complications expected to clear up soon. The injuries Blaire gave him were still healing over. He probably wouldn’t be functioning if it weren't for all the medication he was taking. He could hardly feel the mask on his face, but he knew Waylon’s touch well enough, having craved it so deeply.

  
  
He took a deep breath before drawing the mask down to speak once more. “I still have the chance to protect you. I want to…” Eddie’s voice broke, he took a shuddering breath before continuing. “I consider you as part of my family Waylon. I want that to happen for real. If you’ll let me.”

  
  
Waylon was startled by his words, feeling as if he may have imagined them or misheard Eddie. “Your...family?” Waylon tested the word on his tongue. A look of concern swirled into Eddie’s tired blue eyes. He gave a nod of affirmation, already dreading rejection, especially after admitting to freelance murder. He wasn’t quite sure how Waylon would handle all of this, already regretting mentioning it so soon. He silently cursed himself, starting to withdraw his fingers from Waylon’s hold when the techie cemented it, renewing the vice grip from earlier. The action that took a lot of effort on the blonde’s part, but it struck a chord in Eddie. His heart fluttered in his chest as the blonde raised the tailor’s bandaged hand to his lips and placed a sweet kiss to it before leaning closer, using the wheelchair to prop himself up, leaning against the bed to keep steady to brush the mask aside and meet the man's lips in a chaste kiss. Waylon practically leaned over Eddie’s lap on unsteady legs. The larger male slipped his hand free to move it around Waylon’s chest to help steady him more, deepening the kiss and pulling the mask completely off of his head in the process.

 

It didn’t last long as a voice cleared in the doorway. There stood a nurse with the mischievous journalist lingering in the threshold. Both had a knowing smirk spread across their features that caused the techie to shift back to his wheelchair with a little bit of help from Eddie’. A pink tint to his pale complexion as both men corrected themselves and settled back into their seats. Miles reclaimed his chair beside Waylon, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee with a small paper plate balanced on top. A plastic fork shoved into a square piece of cake with a small orange carrot marking it in frosting. “What are you eating?” Waylon asked in confusion, glancing between the journalist and his bandaged nubs trying to maneuver the fork around in an awkward gesture. 

 

“Carrot cake. They have some downstairs in the cafeteria. Wanna try a bite?” Miles offered, cutting a corner piece free with his fork and holding it out to Waylon. 

 

The techie shuddered and shook his head, his empty stomach disagreeing with Miles’ idea of good food. “I’m good. All yours buddy.”

 

Miles jerked in place, giving Waylon a glare, narrowing his eyes at his friend. He frowned at the techie who gave an innocent look of confusion in return. “That term is forever banned from being used. It will enter the black book of words never to be said aloud. Right next to the word ‘moist’.”

 

Eddie glanced over at the pair in confusion while the nurse tended to him, with a brief check up. Chastising him in between for messing with his mask so much. Eddie rolled his eyes, snaking his hand across the mattress towards Waylon, fingers splayed outward, palm up. The gesture drawing the techie’s attention which he obliged, weaving their fingers together. A smile tugged at Eddie’s lips as he drew the captured hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the blonde’s knuckles. An embarrassed flush spread across Waylon’s features as Miles and the nurse shared odd glances between. He adjusted his fingers, tightening their hold as he relaxed back, and for once, finally feeling content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STAY TUNED FOR A FAN SERVICE CHAPTER AFTER THIS! IF YOU WANT MORE JEREMY/WAYLON SEXINESS! THERE WILL BE PLENTY MORE TO COME. 
> 
> For all the parts I couldn't use without ruining the plot, I shall compose a wondrously sex kinky as all hell final chapter for all of your Jeremy/Waylon needs. Please leave a comment down below as to what you thought. I pulled an all nighter to finish the last three official chapters to the story. Thank you all for keeping up with me and being so patient. I don't even have the words to describe how much it means to me. (I'm sleep deprived from writing so much.) Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!


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